The Power of Choices Part 1: Rise and Fall
by Brazilian Sith Lord
Summary: AU. What would have changed in the KOTOR universe had Bastila joined the war on the Mandalorians. Male Revan. Mandalorian Wars timeframe. CHAPTER 15 is up.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Knights of The Old Republic and all of its characters belong to LucasArts, Bioware and Obsidian

**The Power of Choices**

**Chapter 1 – The first encounter**

"_**He is a strange one. A cynic by experience, a romantic by inclination, and now a hero by necessity."**_

_**David Gemmell, in 'Legend' **_

_Republic Transport, Hive. En Route for Coruscant. Summer, 3.962 years Before the Battle of Yavin. 16:30 Galactic Standard Time_

**A**n eighteen year old Bastila Shan sat silently at her room inside the republic transport on its way to the Republic capital world of Coruscant. One may believe that a youngster heading into the unknown would have a million thoughts scrambling through its mind, but not this young Padawan. However far from the Dantooine Enclave as she might be, the cold stare of her former Master still scorched through her memory. His silent disapproving glance stung the young woman more than a thousand words of reprimand. She was an Outcast, an outsider in the Order that, for her, had been her life: the Jedi.

With a determined grunt, the young woman drove those thoughts away from her mind. No matter her inhibitions, no matter her fears, there was one maximum she did not blink in acknowledging: The Mandalorians had to be stopped… Since the early skirmishes on the Outer Rim, she had carried within her a hidden grudge, a hidden resent directed at the warrior race. It wasn't long before she discovered the reason behind her bitterness: The absolute irrationality of their attacks. What drove them into Republic space? Greed? Bloodlust? What had those countless civilians, billions if not trillions, done to deserve their deaths. However clear those doubts had been, one surpassed all of them by a long shot: Why would the Jedi not interfere? Were the Jedi not Guardians of Light, Keepers of the Peace? _Igitur qui desiderat pacem, preparet bellum…_ 'Therefore, whoever wishes for peace, let him prepare for war'.

The news of a rift within the Order had come as a shock to most. A young charismatic Knight, Revan Stormrider, had travelled through the Outer Rim on the behalf of the Council gathering information on the Mandalorian activities. His report, considered by many one of the most detailed accounts on the early stages of the War, were grim, to say the least. It brought to light the poor state of the troops on those sectors, and how the Mandalorians' blitz tactics had taken the Republic forces by storm. Even before the Republic's defensive batteries could take aim, a storm of nuclear fire rained down on countless worlds. They cared nothing for the civilian population, and not once they considered occupying a planet before raising its industrial cores to the ground. The Senate called for the Jedi, the people called for their saviors, and still the Council hesitated.

As he heard of such decision, the Knight Revan stormed out of the Council Chambers, and as he was called to answer for his insubordination before the Elder Masters, the young man's reply was curt: "There are more pressing matters to be attended, than the ego of a handful of Masters…"

He left the temple the very next day, and headed towards the war zone. He had answered the call to war; he was not the first, and after that memorable day within the temple halls, he was not the last. Hundreds of Jedi, mostly Padawans and Knights, left within the following week. By the end of the month, nearly a third of the Order had joined the Army's ranks. And still the Council hesitated.

In fact, Bastila was one of those left behind. One of those still wavering, one of those still believing the Council was right to be cautious, was right to be hesitant. If it hadn't been for the Mandalorian raid on her home-planet, Talravin, she'd still be hesitating. Her father was there, her cousins, her childhood friends… The thought of her family dying while the Jedi did nothing was more than she could bear. In the end, Revan's fleet had come to Talravin's aid, liberating them from a two days siege. She needed nothing more, she knew where her allegiances lied. The very next week she followed Malak with her friend Serra and 5 other Padawans.

And now she remained immersed in her thoughts as in one hour she would meet him. _'Revan_…_ The savior of Talravin_.' Bastila would not fool herself, believing his heroic deeds were all that drew her to him. There was something attractive about him, and the truly striking aspect of his figure was his downright imposing presence. The Force seemed to swirl around him, as a star spreading its light through all those near him. For some reason, it reminded her of Serra, her best friend. Their drive, their spirit, their presence, seemed to strengthen all those near them, while using such people to strengthen themselves. It was something she could not fully comprehend, yet there was a reason she was drawn to Revan and not to Serra. She remembered the first day she saw him; it was only in holo-film but still she felt her heart beating faster at the mere sight of the twenty year old knight. It was only natural, she believed. She was a young woman, looking at an attractive young man. Nature saw that such reactions occurred. She had a crush, and nothing more. She inhaled deeply, not the slightest bit confident at her last statement.

"You look troubled enough…" It was Malak, Revan's right-hand man and the man's best friend, standing by the door. "I've been standing here for two minutes and all you've done is stare at your hands… Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine… it's just a big step, you know, abandoning everything you believed right…"

"What is right and wrong, Ms Shan?" He stepped into the room, pacing around the foot of her bed "Is it right to leave the Republic defenseless? Is it wrong to fight for a cause you believe just?"

"That's not what I meant…" She smiled sadly "But I am forsaking a huge part of my life…"

"We all are…" He dragged a chair around, sitting so he would face her "But think of it as starting anew… What stands before us is a blank canvas, and it is up to us to draw our future…"

She began to feel better "That's a nice way to put it…"

"Yeah, Revan thought so when he said it, about a week ago…" He smirked at her "I'm not that much of a poet, Ms Shan…"

"Please, call me Bastila…"

"Bastila…" He nodded "I know how to fight, I know how to inspire my soldiers… I've been raised to defend those around me… I'm a Guardian, and so is Revan…"

"About Colonel Revan… How… How is he like?"

"Ha! Now that's a tough one to answer…" He rubbed his chin, thoughtfully "Hum… I don't know… I guess you can consider him a bit of a clown, but that's his own way… He cares too much about those around him, always trying to lighten up the mood… He's a kind hearted man… I remember the time he freed a Cathar slave on Taris that had just a blinding force presence…" He closed his eyes, struggling to remember the girl's name "Juhani! Yes, that was her name. We sent her to Dantooine to begin training, I heard Master Quatra is teaching her now…"

"Master Quatra is a wise Master, she's lucky…"

"She's lucky, alright… Mine was Vrook…" They both chuckled "He was yours as well, right?"

She nodded.

"Is it true what I hear about you? That you were training Battle Meditation?"

"Yes… But I was still some good years away from mastering it… And now I wonder if I ever will…"

"Who knows… You might. Talk to Revan when we arrive, he's really smart for a twenty year old. I remember on Coruscant there were rumors about him being the chosen one…" He frowned worryingly at her "Are you going to be?"

"Yes. I believe I'm doing the right thing, you know, joining the war…" She sighed, feeling a new surge of confidence. The young man before her was an inspiring individual, alright. "Captain Malak, may I ask you a question?"

"Shoot…" Malak said "And it's just Malak, no need for formalities between Jedi, Revan insists on that…"

"Yes, it's just that I have been analyzing some old battle records. There are a few things I don't understand…"

"Like what?"

"How did both of you lift the siege of Talravin? I heard you were outnumbered 2 to 1…"

"Close to that, we had close to 60 ships and they had about 100…"

* * *

_Republic Destroyer, Scythe. Spring, 9.362 years before the battle of Yavin. A week before events previously mentioned. 14:30 Galactic Standard Time_

**M**ajor Revan Stormrider paced nervously the war room of the GRV-_Scythe, _an Atlas class Star Destroyerholding position over the far side of the seventh moon of Talravin. The Mandalorians had come to this world with more than a simple raid force. Close to 70 ships held orbit over the planet's North Pole, a frozen wasteland, while the remainder of the fleet scouted over the system's other sectors. The besieging fleet carried a small arsenal of medium sized nuclear warheads, and by all early scouting reports it would take less than a day before the warrior race's ships were at their marks. If they released some of their warheads upon the planet's north, half of Talravin's land mass would disappear beneath a cataclysmic tidal wave. The numbers were not on their favor, and time was not on their side.

"We need a battle plan…" Lt. General Saul Karath nervously tapped his fingers on the plasteel table. The yellow nicotine marks denounced the man's vice, the mark of a veteran, the mark of a man that witnessed death countless times, and couldn't be bothered about his own health "They're well positioned and prepared, to assault them head on would be madness…"

"General, permission to speak freely…"

General Karath observed the Major. Every exiled Jedi received the rank of 2nd lieutenant upon joining the Republic Armed Forces, something that irritated the old officer beyond his wildest dreams. For months the Senate pleaded for the Jedi's aid, and when young Knights finally answered that call, the Military treated them as common soldiers. Saul had no illusions… He knew that such downright mistreatment of his Jedi allies was due to a smart political game played by their Elders. Few Senators were stupid enough not to see that while

this war shall pass, the Jedi Order and its influence with people shall remain for centuries. It was safer to undermine a young man than to jeopardize a political alliance that may benefit your position for the coming generations.

Revan however soon proved a superb leader in his short period leading the 501st commando squad. He was stationed on a pretty much forgotten sector within the Outer Rim; forgotten by the republic, at least. The fat bureaucrats within the Galactic Senate were so focused in maintaining their so precious cash flow that they neglected to realize that that same sector was the front door to a series of poorly defended systems that eventually led straight into the Core world of Alderaan. When the Mandalorians came, they did so with full strength. Commander Vosh, Revan's superior officer, had fallen within the first strike, foolishly throwing himself at a trap the young Knight had already warned him off. Revan, then immediately promoted to 1st Lt, received command of the fifteen frigate 'armada' in charge of the sector. He immediately applied a 'light skirmish' tactic. The frigates were to hit the Mandalorians with everything they got, and as soon as the Mandalorians expressed any sort of reaction they were to regroup under Revan's frigate, the GRV-Shogun. He would, then, use their superior speed to go around the Mandalorian fleet and head for one of the countless worlds to recruit and supply. He had kept the Mandalorian from advancing into the core worlds long enough for the Republic to fortify that route. In the next two months the Mandalorians' casualties had grown in such a way that their core world plans had been abandoned until further orders. Revan, now a captain, returned to Coruscant a hero. Despite protests from the Jedi council, Revan's example had been transmitted across the holonet to every planet within republic borders. Malak joined the war effort soon after, following his best friend. And now General Karath observed the young officer; he had long ago learned to respect the man's strategic brilliance. To rise from 2nd Lt. to Major in a year and a half was something extraordinary when it comes to republic military hierarchy, since most Admirals in the fleet were relatives of some Senator. It seemed that bloodlines had replaced tactics in the priority of promotions.

"Revan you know well enough you can speak your mind…"

"Very well sir, thank you." He walked calmly towards the holo-display "I think we can manage this, but for that I'm going to need you and Malak to follow my command, no offense sir…"

"You know me better than that, kid… Go ahead." Karath said, smiling.

"We have fifty eight ships; we all know there's no way they can hit us with their gun turrets, our ships are too fast for them, all we need to worry about is the fighter escorts they carry. If we divide our forces, twenty five frigates to each of you and eight under my command, we can make it. Each of you will attack on their flanks, not reducing your speed for a single second. Hit and run, dirty but effective... They'll most likely divide their forces to pursuit you, as they can't have a Republic fleet unattended to in a sector they plan to occupy… That'll leave their center with an opening…" He rubbed the sweat off his forehead "I will, then, lead my ships through their weakened core, shelling their propulsion engines as I pass… I'll make my way towards their flagship, all guns facing forward, blasting their remaining defensive ships… The flagship will most likely remain apart from their maneuvers as a way to maintain the blockade. When the distance between their flagship and mine is short enough I will lead the 501st as a boarding party and take control of the Mandalorian cruiser. We will then redirect our fire towards the remaining ships. With any luck the citizens of Talravin will notice the battle and come to our aid with their ground forces… Any objections?"

Revan smiled shaking his head as he noticed Malak had raised his hand.

"I oppose to the fact you're the only one who'll be able to fight some Mandalorians face to face…"

The entire command center laughed, Revan shook his head yet again and spoke up.

"Very well, my shinning head of a friend. Every flanking ship may send its own Jedi boarding party to the nearest Mandalorian cruiser… happy enough?"

"I'm at bliss! Ha!" He laughed, and they all made their way towards their respective ships.

* * *

**R**evan was nervous, so far his plan had worked just fine, he had disabled thirty six Mandalorian battle-cruisers and Malak, he heard, had successfully boarded the nearest enemy ship and was now firing his way, head on, into the Mandalorian lines. The young Knight shook his head, not knowing why he actually asked Malak to follow his plan. He picked up his comm. unit and contacted his bridge "Signal fleet… All heads turn back and engage… Tighten their formation and send boarding parties to the innermost ships. I need them pressured from the outside and slaughtered from the inside..." 

He didn't wait for a reply, as now it was his turn to act. He would leave his Destroyer with five boarding shuttles, somehow escape flak fire, dodge enemy fighters and board the Mandalorian flagship. It was a suicide mission, he admitted, but it was the only way he could win this. To capture the flagship meant to gain control of all nearby battle droids, and be able to turn them against their previous masters. The strategic advantages were immense, as the blockade itself would be lifted, and hopefully there would be some actual ship support from the planet bellow.

But all that depended on him making it to the flagship. He made a silent prayer to the ancient god of his home world, Alderaan, and watched as the hangar's blast doors opened before him. Revan checked his lightsaber for the second time in the past five minutes, igniting the purple blade and swinging it around for balance purposes. He powered down and reattached his saber to his belt, straightening his black Jedi robes and making his way to his shuttle.

He entered the box-shaped transport, staring at the face of his commandos. These were the men he had led for almost a year. These were his brothers. Ulgo, Jonis, Kollo… He felt safer near these men, for he had seen them spit at the face of death and emerge victorious. He had his absolute trust on them. He only hoped they had their absolute trust on him.

* * *

**M**alak observed Revan's ship leave the Hangar of the Scythe, four others not far behind. He smiled as he saw the ships' maneuvers to evade enemy fire. "See that one, Onasi… That's Revan flying right there… Only he is crazy enough to pull off those stunts…" 

"Yes, sir…" Another explosion shook the entire ship, and the young Lieutenant felt blood dripping from the top of his forehead "Sir… This is the third torpedo impact we've suffered in less than twenty minutes… We're not gonna last long if we stay here…"

"We're not leaving until Revan reaches that flagship…" He turned to his men, on the bridge "All turrets and droids, cover those ships… If they don't make it, neither will we…"

The Mandalorian destroyer rained fire over his path, blasting fighters and frigates as if nothing but paper planes. Twice the ship's hulls crashed against approaching destroyers, twice they advanced in the wake of Revan's movements. The bald man sighed in absolute relief as he saw Revan's boarding ship enter the nearly empty hangar in the Mandalorian flagship. He turned to his Lieutenant "Set the Fusion charges… Signal every boarded ship… Fireship maneuvers!"

He stared one more time through the windows of the Mandalorian starship before turning back and making his way towards the hangar. It was Revan's turn to work his magic. Malak's job was done for the moment.

* * *

**R**evan darted from the loading ramp of his boarding shuttle. His plan to make the matter a quiet incursion was thwarted by Malak's 'cover'. The moment you see a massive battleship, your battleship, go straight into the path of your lasers to cover what appeared to be a straight line to your hanger, you start to pay attention to what's in that line. A laser shot whizzing past his head brought him back to the real world. He used a force wave to knock down some of the nearby Mandalorians and concentrated on reflecting blaster fire back at the enemy troopers. His commandos quickly joined in on the effort and quickly secured perimeter of their boarding shuttles. This gave Revan the go ahead to 'earn his paycheck'. 

He no longer cared about diverting the shots back at the Mandalorian soldiers, only about getting them out of his way. He approached the first man, slashing the back of his knees and decapitating him with one clean strike. Two fellow warriors approached, and Revan twirled his blade by the sides of his body, parrying their vibroblades severing one man's foot and hitting the other near his right shoulder. He powered off his saber, raising his hands and lifting almost a dozen Mandalorians off the ground. You could see a smile on his face as he threw the enemy soldiers straight into the big vacuum of space.

He smirked as he saw several approaching shuttles. Talravian armed forces, the pride of, well, Talravin. He could see the outlines of several other transport shuttles, as well as missile batteries being fired from the planet's surface. He turned his head to the side, nodding in approval as his men secured the ship's Hangar. Revan made his way to the foremost docking ship, and formally saluted a man in a Colonel's uniform.

"Major Stormrider, from the GRV-Scythe…"

"Lt. Colonel Zoriad, Talravian militia." He nodded at the young man, giving him somewhat curious side glance. "Stormrider? From the Outer Rim Skirmishes? The young Jedi?"

"Yes, sir…"

"Quite a big shot defending such a small planet as ours…"

"Colonel, I go where I'm requested. And I wouldn't go as far as to call myself a big-shot…" The young Knight sighed. He felt he was wasting enough time on such pleasantries "Respectfully, sir, we haven't got the time for this… I need you to lead your men into the west wing and disrupt their communications; I'll lead my squad into the bridge and take control of the battle droids. Is that clear?"

"Y-Yes…" The old man wasn't used to being told what to do, specially by a Major "May the Force be with you, son… You'll need it"

"And you with, Colonel… And with you…" He turned to his men "Alright, let's move out! Ulgo, Ferris! Both of you stay here, not a single Mandalorian passes through those doors, understood?"

"Yes sir!" Both men responded as they made their way towards the ships' gun turrets.

Revan ignited his lightsaber and raised it high, as to gather his troops around him. He directed his saber towards the large gateway, a sign to advance. His men held their positions at both sides of the blast doors. Revan held his hands near his chest, and an invisible sphere was formed within its restrains. He pushed his hands forward and the doors' locks broke with a loud crack noise. The two panels opened with a hiss, and before they were fully apart, Revan's blade had already reached a Mandalorian neck.

* * *

**T**he way through towards the bridge had been a rough one. The Mandalorians had established ambushes in nearly every corner of the ship. Unfortunately, for them, Revan's Force sense had foreseen their every move. They remained statically inside their entrenched positions, waiting for the republic soldiers to walk by unprepared. What they saw, instead, was at least two thermal detonators thrown directly at them. 

Now Revan stood behind the last corner. The last one before the blast doors that led towards the ship's bridge.

"You're saying there are no thermal detonators left?" A young corporal nodded. The young Knight sighed "This will complicate things…"

"Crap, never mind that…" He grabbed the corporal by the shoulder "I'll ignite my saber and jump towards the opposite wall. They'll be too distracted to look at the shadowed forms of three of you aiming around the corner. Save your ammo, I want one kill per shot… Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir… Good luck, sir…" The young man responded.

"Corporal, in my experience there's no such thing as luck…"He said as he began running towards the nearby corner. He jumped in a ridiculous manner, earning the immediate attention of the entrenched Mandalorian forces, who fired their repeating blasters. The three men of Revan's squad appeared around the corner and took aim. They hit the Mandalorian elite squadron members in the head; but not before the impressive display of distraction techniques by Revan, who was now flapping wings like a chicken. Revan regained his composure as he saw the approaching form of his men, a snigger plastered in their faces.

"Oh, shut up!" Revan said "Place some charges on these blast doors; get ready, the bridge ought to be a tough bone to crack… I don't know how we're going to do this without thermals…" He sighed.

"Well, sir… We could always use the concussion grenades. Or perhaps even the plasma ones… We have a ton of those…"

Revan glared hatefully at the man before him. The young corporal felt that and swallowed hard.

"Then would you be so kind to tell me, Corporal, why did I just make a fool out of myself WHEN WE HAD 'TONS' OF GRENADES HANGING AROUND!"

"Huh… you didn't ask, sir… You asked for the thermal detonators… And we ARE out of thermal…"

"I suggest you silence your tongue, corporal, before you lose it… Are those charges ready?" He turned and nodded at his men's work "Good, at my signal blast the damn thing…"

He breathed hard and relaxed his shoulders, focusing his mind. His grave stare met that of his men."Replace all your ammo clips and get ready… When those things blow, storm the damn place and find cover. I'll handle the advance…"

He held his saber close to his face, feeling the heat singe his pale skin. He raised his arm "Sons of the Republic! 'Til Death!" He shouted. His men cheered loudly as Revan lowered his lightsaber, the signal for the explosives set on the doors to go off.

* * *

**A **loud thundering noise took over the ship's bridge. The blast doors were thrown ten feet into the room, crushing a group of five Mandalorian elite warriors that were unlucky enough to stand in their way. Before the doors had hit the floor Revan's foot was on top of them, using them as ground for an impressive force jump. Revan was at least ten meters above ground, which gave him a superb overview of the situation. 

The Mandalorian forces were concentrated on the walkway that led to the fleet admiral, a man in golden battle armor. "Grenadiers to the flanks! Riflemen, cover fire!" He shouted from midair. His men obeyed him and made their way towards the lower grounds next to the main walkway. They began to bombard the Mandalorians with plasma and concussion explosions, with flash grenades every couple of throws to blind the enemy.

Revan, who finally released his force hold over himself, started to descend into the far end of the walkway. He softened his landing by bringing a foot directly over a Mandalorian's helmet, hearing a sickening _crack_ when the same hit the floor. He used a force wave directly behind him to knock down some Mandalorians and push them to where the grenades were being thrown.

Now only the Mandalorian commander stood before him. Revan assumed his battle stance as the man unsheathed his golden trimmed vibro-sword. The young Knight knew the material used in those was made to resist lightsaber strikes and prepared himself for the upcoming duel. The man attacked, releasing all his furry into one devastating, but easily countered attack. '_He wants to have a strength competition? Fine, I'll play along_…' He thought as he charged towards the gold armored man. Their blades met with a burning noise. The Mandalorian's arms were as big as logs and Revan was not sure he could win the match, even being a Jedi Guardian himself. He used the Force to give him the edge on the battle and when the Mandalorian's arms could take no more struggle Revan lowered both their blades and, with a swift movement, severed the Mandalorian's both hands. Revan used the momentum to turn his back to the Mandalorian leader and turn the saber in his own hand, thrusting the blade backwards to meet the man's breastplate. Revan only heard the Mandalorian's surprised last intake of air before the loud 'thud' that announced his death.

Revan slowly regained his posture. He turned to find his men had already dealt with the remaining enemy troopers. He noticed a computer console near the ships controls and, as he walked towards it, smiled as he noticed those controlled the Mandalorian combat droids. He typed a few instructions, thanking the Force he had learned to speak Mandalorian at young age when still at the enclave in Dantooine. He released a sigh as he saw the combat droids carrying out their new orders. 'Aid the Republic; Fight off the Mandalorians.' Simple orders, he admitted, but wise ones nonetheless. 'I am going to need a whole bottle of Tarisian ale when we return to Coruscant.' He thought as he made his way towards his celebrating men. _He had done the impossible_, arose victorious after a combat with far superior forces and more advanced technology. Not only had he destroyed his foes, liberating Talravin from Mandalorian grasp, but also captured two different types of enemy vessels, the large flagship and the standard cruiser; bringing truly valuable information to the Republic war effort. He and Malak would surely be promoted and their cause strengthened. As for the Mandalorians: they had received a powerful blow to their morale, outsmarted by a rising republic officer by the name of _Revan. _

"So the only ships the Republic lost…" Bastila began, impressed over the tale of the savior of her homeland.

"Were those we destroyed ourselves…" Malak responded "The 'Fireship' maneuver consists on setting charges to ships we own and direct them at the enemy formation. We took out more than thirty Mandalorian destroyers like that…"

"And when you returned…"

"The Senate awarded us with the '_Pour Le Mérite'_, the Republic's highest Order…" He said, proudly, while tapping his chest "Revan was promoted to Colonel, I became a Capitan and Saul Karath became a full Admiral."

Their conversation was cut short due to the ship's speakers announcing they'd arrive on Coruscant in five minutes.

"I hope that helped… Get your things ready, I'll meet you in the landing platform." Malak said, getting up. He was about to leave but instead turned back to the Padawan "Oh, and don't worry. I won't tell Rev you have a crush on him…" He said, laughing when the girl's face became red.

"I do not have a crush on him" She said getting up and placing her hands on her hips, a clear sign of irritation. "I was merely curious about how he had liberated Talravin… That's all…" She spoke, more to herself than to the man in front of her.

"Sure…"

"I mean it!" She stared away from his face, not wanting to meet his glance "I was just curious, yes… That is all…"

"Whatever you say… So I shouldn't help you out?"

"Help me out?" She stuttered, confused "Why would you? Ho-how? How would you?"

"I'll deal with that, don't worry…"

"Captain…"

He turned "Yes?"

"I truly appreciate the thought, but why would we need to be 'brought together'?"

He smirked "Revan is pretty lonely for a commander. And you don't seem to be that different…" He smiled openly at her embarrassment "Both your solitudes seem self 'inflicted'… You chose to be outcasts, to commit yourselves wholeheartedly to your goals, your causes… And right now both of you share the same cause… There is no reason why you shouldn't share more than that…"

"I… wha…" She was momentarily speechless, but then gave up, sighing. "Do you really think so, that we could… sh-share something?"

Malak laughed "Man, I'm good. Sure thing sweetheart… Just don't worry about it…" He stood near the door and winked "You and Revan would get together even without me. You're too alike to be apart…"

"Thank you Malak…" She said, watching the man leave. She stood up and approached her bag, packing all her clothes. She would meet him in a few minutes. Revan, the thought that had occupied her mind for the past year or so. Bastila attached her saberstaff to her belt and picked up a small holo-pic of her father. He had been immensely proud of her joining the Jedi Order, now here she left to fight a war she had little clue of, pursuing a man she had never spoken to. She scoffed at the thought of Bastila Shan, ice queen of Dantooine, running off to seek the man of her dreams. She inhaled and clenched her jaw. For the first time, she spoke with entire confidence "The Force guides my every action… This is no crush… There is a reason I left the Order, and it was not to follow a man anywhere… The cause is just, and I shall follow it."

* * *

_Upper Sector Coruscant. Republic Central Command Enclave. Auditorium 33-A. Summer, 3.962 years before the battle of Yavin. 17:00 Coruscant Time (which is the same as the Galactic Standard Time)_

**R**evan stood calmly in an auditorium inside the Republic Central Base, in Coruscant. Before him stood twenty new recruits, one face more innocent than the other. He looked at the ones Malak had brought; of the six, four were women. '_Yep, that's Malak alright…_' he thought as he cleared his throat to begin their greetings.

"Good morning to you all, I hope you had a pleasant trip to our lovely capital… I am Colonel Revan Stormrider, and you are to address me as such in front of Republic or Senate officials. Otherwise, you can call me Rev…" he smiled "I'm not going to go on and on about the flaws

of the Council and the righteousness of our cause, you wouldn't be here if you thought otherwise…"

He sat on the desk above the podium, relaxing his muscles and continuing on a less formal tone.

"What I will do is welcome you to our noble cause…" He rubbed his tired eyes, and near the end of the room Bastila found herself growing a soft spot for the man before her. He looked in desperate need of a rest, but with little time for it "I won't lie to you… It's not easy being out there, on the front… You'll get to know death both as an ally and as a foe. It can take you from the killing grasp of an enemy or smother the life of your closest friend…"

The room became grim, and twenty Jedi Padawan stared at each other's faces.

"I don't expect all of you to be prepared for this, but I can only tell you this: If you have a mythic notion of a battlefield, you're no good to this cause. Our battles are not about banners flying in front of our armies. We have no cavalry charges, or noble duels. Our objective is to kill as many of them as possible with the least effort involved. If the best course for a Jedi is to drop a grenade in the middle of a formation when the honorable thing to do would be to ignite your saber and charge, I expect you to choose the former."

"If you are ready for this life, I can only thank you… We are in dire need of Jedi, as we're the only ones with the slightest tactical intelligence in this army…" He smirked, ironically "For those who stay, I extend my welcomes, and open my chambers to anything you might need. If it's 2 AM and you can't sleep you can talk to me. Well, preferably Malak as he'll make you sleep after a few minutes of talking."

The whole room chuckled, and Revan smiled sadly. After such a conversation he didn't expect them to be able to laugh. Malak only shook his head. "If there is nothing more…" The young Colonel continued "Please, use this night to rest or celebrate. In the morning we shall leave Coruscant and head for the Outer Rim. Meeting is tomorrow at 0900 hours, in the Hangar of this base, in front of the Scythe. May the Force be with you… Dismissed…"

Revan got off the table and turned around, going through some bureaucratic papers. All newcomers started to talk amongst themselves, with some approaching the young Colonel for a formal greeting. Bastila Shan noticed the approaching form of Capitan Malak. She turned towards him but was confused at the fact he just stood there, not saying a word.

"Yes?" She spoke up, finally, after two minutes of silence.

"Just wait." She found his advice a strange one, but complied nonetheless, remaining silent until her friend Serra arrived and the three of them initiated a conversation that lasted several minutes. The Padawans began to leave, and no later than ten minutes afterwards Revan found himself alone in the room, alongside Malak and his new friends. He stared at the three only remaining figures inside the auditorium. The young Colonel was used to Malak waiting for him, but by his side were two young Padawans. Two young _women_… '_Malak…_' He thought, shaking his head. He slowly made his way towards them.

When Bastila noticed the approaching form of Revan her heart skipped a beat and her reaction was such that both Malak and Serra stopped talking turning to where the young woman nervously stared. Bastila silently cursed herself, thinking that this was no monster to be feared, nor god to be adored. She swallowed hard and calmed herself, adjusting a few strands of hair behind her ears. Her flushed faced turned a light tone of pink, and her deep blue eyes seemed more determined. The bald man's loud voice brought Revan into their conversation.

"Revan! We were waiting for you…" Malak said. _So that was what the bald man had intended_, she thought. Serra smiled at the young Colonel and gently elbowed her friend. Bastila shifted and produced what could only be considered an uncomfortable smile. Revan approached them and nodded, welcomingly, to the two young women. His humble ways only

made Bastila more nervous. She was prepared to deal with a superior officer, a legend amongst men. What she saw was a young man, too young to be in a position of leadership, much like herself: lonely, intelligent, simple and rather shy… He was far from the heroic figure the holonet made him, yet this only made him better in the young woman's eyes. He was a simple man, one strong in the Force undoubtedly, but still a man; one that rose to the challenge of command, and thrived.

"I can perfectly see that…" The young Colonel looked at his friends, then once again at the two women "And your friends are…"

"This is Serra Ors, a Guardian, much like yourself…" Malak indicated the blue robed woman.

"Pleasure to meet you…" Revan said, picking up her hand and kissing it. He narrowed his eyes, remembering something he had long since not heard of "Ors… I recognize the name, a fellow Alderaanian, I believe… And from a pretty preeminent family, as well…"

"Not as much as the Stormriders, lesser nobility in Aldera…"

"Nobility!" Malak laughed, actually surprised at the news "Old friend and you always hid that from me…"

"Well, the kissing hand thing gave it away. They have strict etiquette rules." Serra explained.

"Still, royal household?" Malak said.

"After the Order, it means nothing, before it… Perhaps even less" His tone clearly indicating he had no intention to discuss the issue further "And you may be?" Revan spoke, turning his attention to Bastila, who froze in her place. Malak picked up on that and began his introduction.

"Thiiiiiiiiissss…" He said as he moved next to her. "Is Bastila Shan, Sentinel Padawan…"

Bastila extended her hand, which Revan picked it up and kissed as well. As Revan's lips touched the skin of her hand Bastila felt a jolt of energy run through her body. The young man frowned, moving his lips away from her skin, his face somewhat disturbed. Malak, noticing the look both of them had in their faces, interrupted.

"She was perfecting Battle Meditation, you know?"

"Really?" The young man was actually surprised. He looked at his friend, his eyes telling him that was the first piece of good news he had received in quite some time. "Do you have a voice to follow such a lovely face, or should I start to communicate in signals?"

"No!" She almost shouted, realizing she hadn't said a word since the young man had approached them. It startled both Revan and Malak, who took a step back with a rather amusing look. "I'm sorry, I'm not mute. Just… incredibly shy…" She said, flushing in disappointment.

'_I blew it…' _she thought _'He thinks I'm a bloody freak… He wouldn't be too far off, in all fairness…'_

"Shyness is temporary…" Revan said, smiling warmly at her. He laid a reassuring hand at her shoulder and once again Bastila felt a jolt of energy running through her body "Hum…" He coughed, focusing himself once again "Anyway, shyness will fade as your confidence grows… My uncle once told me, 'You should only be ashamed of robbing and killing. All else is only a consequence of living…', so please let us hear that beautiful voice of yours… To hide it would be a clear violation of the Republic Military Code, wouldn't it, Malak?"

"By the Force, it would, Revan!" His tone of voice imitated the old gallantry of ancient times, and the four of them chuckled at the impression. Bastila noticed his glance meeting hers, and without words Malak had told her: '_Don't worry… You haven't blown it…'_

Bastila could only smile back, fearing that if she pronounced another word she would ruin the whole thing. Revan laid his hand and the tall man's shoulder, smiling devlishly.

"The owner of that restaurant downtown called, he told me he had a table set and a couple of boxes filled with drinks, all with our names on it…" He smirked at Malak's confused look "Remember that old trade route we secured near the 3rd quadrant?"

"Yeah…"

"Well, the owner got his Iridonian fly-fish from that route… He said he owes us something for it and I plan to accept it. Will you follow?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world." Malak turned to the two women still standing by their side "And you two will grace us with your companies, won't you?"

"Sure…" Serra said "I've got nothing planned anyway…"

"And young Bastila?" Revan asked, holding both her hands in his; a needy look in his face.

"I…" Bastila started. She was about to say 'no' but the look in Malak's face made her do otherwise. "…would love it."

"Excellent!" Revan said "Now, you and Serra settle yourselves at your room. They're in the officer's wing. Just ask directions to anyone in the base." As they were about to leave Revan shouted "Oh, one more thing…" both women turned to face him "… no Jedi robes allowed."

"Yes!" Malak called "It would attract too much attention. Civilian clothes!"

Both women nodded and left; leaving Revan and Malak alone in the room.

"So?" Malak's twisted smile was already plastered in his face, and Revan couldn't help but sigh "What do you think, eh?"

"About who, the shouting mute one?" He said, chuckling. He took a deep breath, remembering the look of her soft skin and blushed cheeks. She seemed little more than a child, nervous to be in the presence of adults "I don't really know…"

"Yes you do…"

"Well…" He stuttered, struggling to find the right words "She's nice…"

"Tachs are nice, Revan…" Malak helped him with his papers, and the pair exited towards the hallway "I think she's your type…"

"I have a type, now?"

"Yes…" Malak said, smirking "And it's well past your old one…"

Revan shook his head "You mean the 'still breathing' type?"

"Yeah, that one…"

"Wow…" the young Colonel seemed amused "I guess I'm getting picky, aren't I?"

"Oh, come on, Revan, be serious…"

"Well…" He sighed, remembering the moment he kissed her hand "I did feel something weird when I greeted her… Like a wave of energy going through my body. Which, in all fairness, is rather strange, considering I've got nothing to be nervous about…"

"Ah…" He gave his friend a comical look "So that's why you had that look on your face…"

"Force, you could tell!" Revan seemed almost scared "Do you think she did?"

"Nah… she probably thinks you didn't like her reaction to your 'orthodox greeting'…"

"Her…" Revan stuttered, confused "Her reaction?"

"Oh, for Force's sake, Revan, a Miraluka can see things more clearly than you…" Malak sighed "Yes, her reaction! She jumped a little after you kissed her hand, probably feeling that energy thing you said, as well…"

"She did?" Confusion took over his face, before a concerned expression replaced it "Force, did I make her look like a freak?"

"I don't know if you made her, but she surely felt like that…"

"Oh, blast…" He cursed. He didn't want to hurt her, much less strike a blow to her already fragile confidence. He sighed, shaking his head "I guess I'll have to make it up to her tonight…"

"I know a way you can make up to her…" Malak said, regaining his twisted smile.

"And there goes our mature romantic advisor…" He waved his hand in thin air "Bye, bye… Old pal… Welcome back you twisted individual… Hope you had a nice time steeling food from the poor and killing puppies just for fun…"

"At least I had more fun than you!"

"Well, that's because I don't consider sitting in my room masturbating to a picture of Master Vrook to be fun!"

They stared at each other, their expressions made of solid determination. It was Revan who laughed first, but it was Malak who laughed the loudest. "You are a sick man…" the bald man spoke, in between laughs "And you're no better…"

Revan's laughter dimmed, and his thoughts once again focused on the young woman he had just met. Malak had suggested that he should make it up to her in the most intimate of manners. Revan usually dismissed any word that left Malak's mouth as utter rubbish. He felt a certain obligation to ignore most advices coming from his friends, with a single exception: women.

Malak understood them far better than Revan did. He was a tall muscular man, and Revan a lean, rather introverted individual. While the bald man participated on friendly pranks, socializing with the Padawans at the old Jedi Temple, Revan spent his days locked inside his room, studying countless datapads of the most varied subjects. History was his favorite, with military strategy as a close second. He flooded his mind with knowledge, yet his heart was always empty.

Being such, he never truly understood Malak's reasons for befriending him. He wasn't popular, not particularly handsome, at least at the time, and somewhat of a freak. His connection to the Force was second to none, and many were the masters who believed the

young Padawan would grow up to be a Sentinel. A thought he shared, until his life changed close to six years after he had joined the Academy.

A young female youngling, a lonely soul, much like Revan, was being harassed by one of her elders. A twelve year old boy, the same age as he was, had pushed her into the fountain at the center of the Academy. Revan approached him, demanding an apology. The boy refused, and threw a punch at the young Padawan's face. It was then Revan discovered his cold blood, his ice-built heart. The boy's fist flew inches from his face, allowing for his hands to get a good grip on the boy's arm.

Revan broke the boy's arm in three different places, and left him writhing on the ground while he helped the young girl out of the fountain. Vrook's lectures were stern, Vandar's smile had vanished, but one thing he never forgot: the gratitude in the girl's teary eyes. It was then he noticed his true calling. He was a defender, a true champion to fight injustices all around the galaxy. The girl began to follow him and the two became friends. Malak followed soon after, perhaps hearing of Revan's exploits. It wasn't long before the Padawan had an entourage of his own, a small circle of friends. Atris, Malak, Wes… His friends had all but parted with the war, and now he saw perhaps the beginning of a new one, with young Bastila.

It was a welcoming thought, but Revan knew there was something more. That energy, that feeling of welcoming, of closeness, it was something he had never felt before. Tough times were ahead of the Knight, but for once he felt good about it. But first, he needed to 'make it up' to Bastila, and once again for the first time in quite some time, he felt the urge to follow up on his friend's suggestion.

TBC

* * *

Second fic! Yeah! As always, **Read and Review…**

I was hit with some inspiration these days (No, I am not drunk) and came up with this. I hope everybody likes it; I have put quite an effort making it.

I know that was not the best point to stop the narration, but I wasn't finding a better spot and decided to end it here.

Thank you for your support…

**UPDATE March 16th/2008:** For those who are reading this for the first time, the following chapters, up to chapter 9, perhaps, are significantly shorter and less elaborate. It was my writing style at the time and it has changed since. I like to believe I've evolved as a writer, but it is up to you to be the judges on that one. I apologize beforehand about any contradictions that might come up during this update process, but hopefully, once it's finished, It'll be a much better fic.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Knights of The Old Republic and all of its characters belong to LucasArts, Bioware and Obsidian

**Chapter 2- The Beginning of Something**

_Upper Sector Coruscant. Republic Central Command Enclave. Officer's wing. Summer, 3.962 years before the Battle of Yavin, 18:30 Coruscant Time. Revan's room._

The collar of his plain navy blue cotton shirt was slightly wrinkled, but Revan shrugged at the thought of changing shirts for the third time that night. He didn't have a closet full of civilian clothes, and if he just changed whatever piece of cloth that wasn't in perfect conditions, odds were he would go out in the nude. He put on his dark grey studded leather vest over his shirt, zipping it up, then a standard Republic Army coat over it. His black trousers, over his worn out black boots were a testament to how poorly the man was accustomed to civilian life. If there was a positive about the Jedi way, he thought, was that a brown robe was fit for every occasion.

"We could always wear our uniforms…" Malak said, donning his typical red sweater and dark orange pants. He wore a standard Army coat over it as well, but unlike Revan's black one his was brown. His brown boots were as worn as Revan's "It'd impress more than these things."

"A man cannot be considered impressive by his appearance, Malak…" Revan's voice was serene, plain. It always amazed Malak that the very same man, usually shy and introverted, with a plain cold voice, shook crowds of men with rallying speeches and inspiring actions. "Impressive looks deem a far too great preoccupation with such shallow matters. No, if we mean to impress, we should do so with words and actions…"

"Then we should act…" He said, opening the door and stepping out into hallway "And hit the clubs of this planet with the ferocity of a Rancor…"

"About that…" Revan said, uncomfortable. Malak's shoulders dropped, knowing his friend well enough to know such plan would never go through. "We have enough agitation on the Outer Rim… I plan to visit that restaurant, as I've told you before…"

"I finally free myself from the Jedi Code, manage to find a free night to get lost in all_ emotion _and _passion _I can find and your plan is to go to a restaurant and eat Iridonian fly-fish?"

"It is…" Revan's smile was weak, sad. Malak once again found he simply could not argue with his friend when he was like that. It felt as reprimanding a watery-eyed dog. "Think of it like this, Malak: We _are _being accompanied by two lovely ladies…"

"How is that restaurant anyway?" Malak scratched the back of his bald head "I know of it, but I've never been to it before…"

"The light is dim, the mood is private…" Revan sighed, trying to remember the details "A band playing in the back, not too many customers… Yes, you can call it dark and quiet… An ideal place to take our lovely friends…"

"Now you're speaking my language!"

"To talk, Malak… Enjoy the evening…"

Malak's shoulders dropped for the second time in as many minutes. Revan stared at his disappointed friend and shook his head, failing to suppress a sigh.

"You're a lost cause, Malak…"

* * *

_Upper Sector Coruscant. Republic Central Command Enclave. Officer's wing. Summer, 3.962 years before the Battle of Yavin, 18:45 Coruscant Time. Girls' room._

"**I** don't know if I should wear this…" Bastila protested. Her dress reached her knees, which she had no objection to, but her back was completely exposed. Well, half exposed; since her dress had no sleeves, no straps, and no nothing. "How does this remain on?"

"Pressure, I think…" Replied Serra, her friend was a dress similar to her own; only with straps, and 'some' insurance that she wouldn't be exposed in the middle of dinner. "Don't worry; you'll use a coat with that."

She then showed the coat she picked up for her friend. Bastila was a bit relieved, but not as much as she was when Revan and Malak called telling them to dress casually, as the restaurant was small and family-like. 'At least my thighs won't be exposed' she thought as she remembered the outfit Serra had first picked up for her. She was helpless when it came to civilian outfit. Serra, for some reason Bastila chose not to ask, knew those grounds pretty well. Her thoughts were interrupted by a slight knock on the door.

"Are you girls ready?" It was Malak's voice.

"Yes. We'll be right out." Serra responded. The girls picked up their coats and went outside.

Bastila relaxed slightly upon exiting. Revan's clothes were simple, sloppy, some would consider. They fitted him perfectly and for a moment, the four of them there, on civilian clothes, Bastila found herself imagining a group of teenagers going out for a drink. _You're a teenager… _she thought. Revan was little more than that himself. She couldn't help but think the men before her, and now the young former Padawan herself, were in over their heads, but dismissed the thought. It was a night to forget about problems, not conjure up new ones.

"I guess I was mistaken, then…" Serra said, much to the surprise of the two men "I was under the impression the two of you would _dress to impress_…"

The two men shrugged, both suddenly uncomfortable with their clothes. Bastila intervened "I wouldn't be impressed by shining armors if the men beneath them did not stand out…"

Revan smiled warmly and once again Bastila's breath caught in her throat at the man's look. "Exactly my thoughts, Ms Shan…" He extended his arm, which she hesitantly took. She looked up, their gazes met and both seemed oblivious to the pair behind them. Her pale cheeks became slightly blushed, and the softness of her skin, the deepness of her eyes, the fullness of her lips… He had never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life. His heart began to beat faster, the pace equaling Bastila's. They were entranced by each other's presence, but Revan's shyness once again took over and the man tore his gaze away. "We should go…" His voice broke, and for the first time Malak had seen his friend in a fragile position "Our driver is waiting…"

"Your driver?" Serra asked, her cheeks blushed for different reasons. She believed her joke was pretty harmless, but it affected both men. Malak offered his arm, his smile tearing away her worries "You'll see…" He answered.

* * *

_Upper Sector Coruscant. Republic Central Command Enclave. Officer's wing. Summer, 3.962 years before the Battle of Yavin, 18:55 Coruscant Time. Shuttle Bay._

"Ms Shan, Ms Ors…"Revan began, as he and his friends entered the speeder, a long black military vehicle, with two sets of backseat, now occupied by the group. Revan's military overcoat and hat had been left on one of the seats, and were now over his lap. "I'd like you to meet my personal assistant droid… HK, introduce yourself…"

"**Fake anxiety-filled statement:** It will be my PLEASURE, Master. Greetings, I am HK-47. Protocol, and other secondary functions, droid. I will be your driver for the night."

"Yes you will…" Revan said, placing the forgotten military cap over HK's skull-shaped head. "Now you look more like a chauffeur…"

"**Irritated Statement:** I do not find this to be necessary, Master. The sole purpose of my existence is to serve your will. Surely you do not need more proof than that…"

"Guess again…" Revan said, smirking.

"**Hopeless Statement:** As you wish, Master.** Query:** Where to?"

"Aphrodite's…" For the first time Revan mentioned the name of the restaurant, and the mention of the ancient goddess of love made her involuntarily shiver "Make it quick, our reservation is in fifteen minutes."

"**Reply:** As you wish, master."

"I'm curious…" Serra said as the speeder took off "…what other secondary functions was he talking about?"

"Well…" Revan started. Serra and Bastila felt that the two men were deeply uncomfortable talking about that subject "…he is both a protocol droid, with a knowledge of over 5.000 different languages… and an assassin droid."

Bastila shuddered, knowing full well that such functions on a droid were a violation of galactic regulations. She stared at Revan, who returned her gaze, seemingly understanding her concerns but unfazed about his droid's usefulness.

"Assassination?" She asked, managing to regain her calm.

"Isn't that illegal?" Serra asked, in a tone a little too indifferent. Revan chuckled. _She'll do fine… _he thought, as he contemplated the girl's confused, yet unaffected stare. She could tell the act was wrong, but wasn't as quick to judge.

"It is, yes…" He answered, retaining his calm face "But it is also invaluable in a military campaign. A droid is rarely destroyed when it is alone. Normally the enemy captures it in order to make it work for them… HK can't have his memory erased. Well, only in one case; where he is shut down."

"Which case is that?" Bastila asked curiously.

"The confirmation of his Master's death…" For once Bastila was truly shocked, not at what the man had said, but the manner of which he had said it. He spoke of his own death as something casual, a data, a side note in a log… Was this the cold, emotionless Revan she had heard of before, glancing his head out of his shell for the first time? He smiled as he continued "Other than that, HK has several protections in his programming. If someone breaks through all of those, HK will activate self-destruction orders; setting off a hydrogen-based bomb capable of incinerating everything within one mile radius."

"Err… Impressive…" She said, not knowing full well how to respond.

He smiled sadly and sighed. He placed his hand over hers, which was lying atop her lap, once again provoking a reaction on both of them. The Force was trying to tell them something, of that they had no doubt. They just didn't know what "I'm sorry, Ms Shan, Ms Ors…" He began "When you're in a war for the large portion of the year it's hard to tear your thoughts away from military matters…"

"It's ok…" Bastila said in an understanding tone. Every word that left the young man's mouth drew her further onto him. He seemed so fragile, so human… He needed some guidance, but had none as all those around him looked up to him. Malak was an exception. She just hoped she could be, as well "And please, call me Bastila… I know it must be stressful…"

"Yes, you shouldn't worry…" Serra said "I wasn't paying attention to half of it…" Serra said. Revan maintained a serious expression that made both Serra and Bastila hold their breaths. Malak only looked down, shaking his head. Bastila noticed the change in the man's eyes, the cold stillness in them. She couldn't help but shiver. Serra swallowed hard…

"I need to remind you, 2nd Lieutenant Ors…" He began with a slight smirk that would have made the two women relax, if not for the cold voice that exited his lips "That this is no means to speak to a superior officer… I'm afraid you'll have to be punished…" Serra swallowed hard "You're paying for our dinner…"

Malak chuckled while he continued to shake his head, and for the first time the women realized the young Colonel was joking. Serra sighed heavily, her mind a mix of feelings she could not fully understand. There was the immediate relief, mixed with humor and a slight irritation about the joke's poor taste. It was then she realized it had been a response to her previous comments on their clothes "Fair game, Colonel… Fair game…" She nodded, a smile across her features "I get the point and will refrain myself from unwanted jokes at inappropriate times… Though the Force will end before I buy you two dinner…"

The group laughed and the most distinguished little sound made its way to Revan's ears. "Did I hear that correctly?"

"Unusual, to say the least…" Malak agreed, with a wink. Both men turned to Bastila, who was smiling warmly and chuckling. She frowned and turned to both of them, surprised with their looks. "What?" she asked.

"A laugh…" Revan's voice carried a tone of obviously fake unbelieving. He and Malak gasped, a smile never leaving their faces as they stared into each other's eyes. Anyone watching would presume they had discovered an ancient artifact and were still baffled by it. It was Malak who once again spoke "It pains me that I have no means to record it… We could have made fortune with such rare gem…"

"Will the two of you stop!" Bastila said, in an angrier tone. But the damage was done. She couldn't stop smiling. She covered her face, as once again her cheeks were flushed. Serra watched in silent amusement, a smirk gracing her lips, happy to not be the focal point of the duo's playful ways anymore. Bastila placed both her hands on her lap, shaking her head and sighing "Is it always like this around you two?"

"Unfortunately, no… it isn't…" Revan said, lying back onto the leather seat, his tone of voice more serious "We don't have much time for jokes on the Outer Rim… But we try to maintain an open channel of conversation…"

"Can we at least not focus on my smile and chuckle for the time being?"

Revan looked at her with sheer affection, but for once she did not turn away shyly. She had known the man for a few hours only, but already she felt drawn to him. Not the physical attraction initially felt, though she admitted, it still had its effects on their interactions, but something more, something deeper. His voice could be as cold as the icecaps of Hoth, but his smile could be warmer than a supernova. His deep blue eyes read into her like an open book, but at times, brief times one could barely notice, they glinted as a dagger, a cold chill passing through any one under his gaze. She knew he could be a passionate speaker, but there was a cool analytic side to him that was well known throughout the Republic. The man fascinated her, she admitted, and the more she knew of him the more she would like to know.

"Alright…" He said "But in turn you have got to promise me you will stop being so shy about everything. Talk about anything you want, and I do mean anything!"

"Yes…" Malak started "…unless there are children nearby. When that happens have some moderation, please!"

Revan cursed loudly as Bastila sighed and shook her head, her cheeks once again turning crimson. Revan cupped her hands within his, and once again their eyes met, their faces only inches apart. "Never mind Malak, he's an idiot… I only carry him around so I can check my hair on the reflection of his bald head…" He ignored Malak's protests and his voice was lowered, so only the two of them could hear "You can talk to me about anything… I may not be the most experienced man when it comes to relationships or even friendship…" He smiled sadly "But I'm always there for my friends… I would _never_ forsake the ones I care for…"

As that last sentence left Revan's lips, his voice was but a whisper. His breathing for once matched Bastila's, in the manner that it was rather deep and warm. Her sweet scent filled his nostrils and brought a strange sense of quivering uneasiness, the same feeling he felt upon kissing her hand a few hours before. It was then he realized how close to her lips he was, and how much closer he longed to be.

"**Interruption:** Master, we have arrived…" Their gaze broke, and the pair flustered back to their initial places, two feet away from one another on the leather seats. "**Addition: **If I may say, I have noticed a significant temperature rise in both you and your female friend. **Suggestion: **If that's troubling you I would be delighted to dispose of her, Master…" HK's metallic voice was seemed almost congenial, a characteristic Revan had no idea he possessed "**Hurried Addition: **Only at your command, Master… Of course…"

Revan sighed, closed his eyes and looked down. He really liked the droid, but at that particular moment he felt like turning it into a tiny piece of scrap metal "No, HK, that's alright… In fact, nobody in this speeder is to ever be 'disposed off', are we clear?"

"**Reply:** Crystal clear, Master. **Addition: **As I've said, we're here. **Query: **Would you like me to take you somewhere else?"

"No, HK. Here will be fine. Park the speeder and wait for us at the front."

"**Reply:** As you wish, Master."

With that, Revan exited the speeder and extended a hand to help Bastila out. Both walked the short distance to _Aphrodite's_ with their arms locked. The sidewalk was clean and the few stars on the firmament, the few that managed to outshine Coruscant's light emission, shone dimly. There was a cold breeze going by, and Revan closed the distance between them, his arm releasing hers and enveloping her thin waist. Their bodies were close, and the cold was no longer felt. They approached the restaurant's doors, Revan giving their names to the receptionist, and soon afterwards the pair entered. Malak and Serra were about to follow, before Malak turned back and glanced angrily at their driver. He shook his head as he entered the venue, and his low voice reached only the companion by his side.

"Talk about spoiling the mood…"

Serra smirked and sighed "I'll say…"

* * *

_Upper Sector Coruscant. Northern Quarter. Aphrodite's restaurant. Summer, 3.962 years before The Battle of Yavin. 20:45 Coruscant Time. VIP wing._

**A**fter a truly pleasant dinner, where the fearful uncomfortable silence was nowhere to be found, Malak had taken Serra to a small dance floor in the VIP wing. Now, for the first time, Revan and Bastila had some time alone to talk.

"I need to tell you, Bastila…" Revan began, and Bastila once again felt nervous. The man had barely spoken after they entered the restaurant, only brief nods and small statements at particular moments, while Malak and Serra told childhood stories of mischievous deeds during their time during the several Jedi Temples and Enclaves. Bastila, much to her own surprise, had spoken more frequently than the young General. They were alone, both highly uncomfortable, unused with a private moment with a member of the opposite sex. Revan tapped the small silver spoon, which was supposed to be used on a dessert dish he had yet to touch, to the tune of a slow song being played by a band upon small podium at the corner of the room. "No…" He corrected himself, with a sad smile "Not tell you, _ask _you… Can you… forgive me for the way I treated you, back there… When we first met, the way I looked at you… I'm sorry… I noticed you were uncomfortable, but I never meant to upset you…"

"No…" She said, smiling sadly, her hands hurriedly holding Revan's. She smiled warmly at him, almost pitied at the man's uncomfortable apology. An apology, she felt, that wasn't due "You have nothing to be sorry about… I… I was a freak, I jumped when I wasn't supposed to, I was startled with every intake of breath… I… I was just nervous…"

"There's nothing to be nervous about, Bastila…" He said, his tone indicating he was stating the obvious.

"You're _Revan_…" She said, making it sound more impressive than it truly was "The leader of the warring Jedi, the most important Commander in Republic space and the most gifted strategist…" She sighed at his chuckle, surprising herself with the look on his face. She saw no pride there, only a sad amusement. She continued, halfheartedly "Aren't you?"

"I _have_ been called all that…" He said. Her body warmed slightly and her cheeks once again turned pale pink as she noticed his hands still locked with hers, and his thumbs caressing ever so softly her fingers. They were sat close together on the U-shaped dark brown velvet seat, and his warm breath reached her face "But I've never considered myself as such… I'm a man, little more than that… I sleep, I eat, I bleed… I consider myself a good duelist, and I'd like to be remembered as a nice leader… But I have no intention to mark my life in the history books. I'm doing what the entire Galaxy expects of a Jedi, nothing more…"

"I guess…" she said, not sure how to deal with the fact the same was expected of her "How do you cope with it… There must be hundreds, if not thousands of soldiers just like me, easily impressed by stories and looking up to you… I think I would have gone crazy with such notion… Yet you're a shy man, I can tell as much… How is it you become the warring master? I'm sorry if it offends you, but you don't look like the inspiring General, the ferocious warrior…"

"A warrior does not return home behaving the same way as in a battlefield…" His eyes were tired, but his voice was assured, patient… "On the front a General must be an ice giant… He must only reveal his weaknesses to his closest advisors and friends, so they know how best to compensate it… Before a common soldier, you're a colossus, a solid statue they can look up to. I may sound rather fragile and insecure, but that is because I am here, with you, in a restaurant, holding your hands…" His caresses were now slightly stronger, his eyes more determined "This isn't my ground, I'm on unknown terrain here… Trust me: on the Outer Rim, I will become that solid statue, that unbreakable man…"

"So you don't relax not even in the presence of Malak… or…" she diverted her gaze "… in my presence…"

He smiled, inhaling deeply before leading her hands to his lips once again. Once again there was a slight spark of energy through their bodies, but now, Bastila noted with excitement, she could see his uncomfortable demeanor was due to him feeling the same. "When addressing you…" He said, making his serious tone sound as an oath being taken "I will always be Revan _the man_… Besides…" He smirked and leaned back, never breaking his gaze "I think you're already more comfortable talking around me, anyway…"

"Well…" She smiled deviously, turning away and taking a sip from her glass of wine "I'm pretty sure this wine you and Malak ordered had something to do with it…"

"Yes… I'm a little woozy myself…" He frowned, staring at her with the corner of his eye "Don't tell me you'll go 'mute' again when you sober up!"

"No, no…" She laughed, and the sound that came off was perhaps the most beautiful thing Revan had ever heard. She picked up a napkin and wiped away every trace of wine from her lips "I'm much better, thank you… In fact I think I'm getting used to talking altogether…"

"You are?" He raised an eyebrow "Who was your Jedi Master?"

"Vrook…"

"Ah…" He said, smiling. No further explanations were needed.

"_Ah_ indeed…" she said, smiling sadly "Not that much room for friendly conversations with Master Lamar…"

"Hey, there's no such thing here… We're a bit of a family…" He grinned and took another sip of Corellian wine "Malak is the 9 year-old and Serra is the rebellious teenage daughter…"

"Hahaha…" Bastila laughed, shyly. It summed up the pair really well. Once again her smile was mischievous "And what would you be?"

"Well…" He considered the question for a moment, before once again meeting her stare "I'd be the ever caring father. Loving…but strict… There's an old saying, dated hundreds of thousands of years ago. 'One has to be tough without ever becoming unkind'…"

"That's a bit of hypocrisy, isn't it?"

"Hypocrisy is my middle name…" His smirk was devious, and he for the first time ate some of the dessert he had before him "Not really, Atrius is… but hypocrisy _is _part of the job…" His eyes sparkled for a minute, and a look of sheer curiosity befell him "Which reminds me, you know a good deal about me, but I don't know much about you…"

"Like what?"

"Like… where are you from?"

"Talravin…"

"Ah…" He said, with a knowing nod "So I take it the siege made your mind up…"

"It did…" She groaned, feeling like a patient before a psychiatrist "The thought of my father, my sisters, my cousins, all dying while the Masters analyzed the situation… I… I just couldn't…"

"Hey, hey…" He said, laying a comforting hand on hers. She was surprised at his amused smile "…welcome to my world."

She frowned uncomfortably "Is it any good?"

He grinned "It sucks…"

Bastila's sad laugh was a massive breakthrough as far as Revan considered it. It was the first bit of irony she had demonstrated all night. "Oh, Force, I'm laughing like a child…"

"Which brings me to my next question…" Revan made it sound the most logic thing in the world "How was your childhood?"

"I was trained by Vrook since I was seven. I had no childhood…"

"Just wait until Malak pulls one of his practical jokes on you…" He said, grinning "It'll be worth two whole childhoods…"

"I can't wait…" her voice was filled with obviously fake excitement, and Revan smiled warmly at how open to conversation she had become. She gave him a sad smile "I'm sorry, Revan… I don't think there's much you'd want to ask about me…"

"There _is_ something we should talk about…" his tone of voice was serious, deep; his gaze absolutely penetrating. Bastila shifted on her seat, uneasy "About what we _feel…_" His fingers caressed her hands, trailing the length of each finger and her knuckles. Her face turned completely red "Every time I touch you, every time you touch me… Something happens… I…" He stuttered, not knowing particularly what to say "I don't know what it is, but I think you feel the same…"

"I do…" She said, weakly "Force knows I do… And I don't have a clue about it either…"

"Is it hormones, nerves, feelings?" He tripped over his tongue, too nervous to make much sense "Is it the Force, somehow telling us what to do?"

"I said I don't know!" She yelled. She was nervous enough without Revan raising his tone of voice. "Why do you keep asking me?"

"I wasn't, I… I'm sorry…" He hurriedly replied "I was asking myself, mostly… But I'm sorry, I didn't want to upset you… I just wish there was something we could do…"

She smiled, holding his right hand with her left, and once again the unmistakable feeling crossed through their bodies. "We can try to get used to it…"

He returned the smile, closing the distance between them. He broke the contact with his right hand, but reached around her shoulders, drawing her even closer. She embraced his waist, and rested her head on his chest. Her heartbeats, previously as fast as a Gungan war-drum, were calmer. His chest rose and fell ever so slightly with his breathing, and it rocked her head almost to an early slumber. He used his free arm to once again take a small piece of the dessert he had ordered, and led the spoon to Bastila's mouth. She accepted the small gift, and hummed approvingly at the sweet taste. Their eyes once again met, and before either of them could say a word their friends returned, Malak stopping dead in his tracks at the scenery.

"Holy crap…" Revan frowned, rather worried as his friend's expression didn't seem fake. He was actually concerned about something "Do you see it?"

"What?"

"Serra…" He pointed at the couple "The slow breathing, the cuddling, the _afterglow…_"

"What?" Revan and Serra asked in unison, Bastila looking between the two, her eyes filled with confusion. It was Serra who continued "You think they…"

"They did it!" It was Bastila's turn to voice an outraged cry. Revan could only laugh, covering his face and shaking his head "I don't know how you pulled it off but the look is unique! That's the look of a person who's just…"

"For crying out loud would you lower your voice!" Revan's commanding voice silenced his friend, and as Malak looked around, he saw that several heads were turned their way, including a young girl, her ears covered by her furious looking mother. Revan sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. He continued, not bothering to look at his friend "Oh, you're leading a frontal assault on a Mandalorian outpost as soon as we reach the Outer Rim…"

"I'd survive it… I can lead my men to the depths…"

"Alone…" Revan interrupted "Naked, unarmed… And I'll phone them before you go telling them what you're doing…"

Serra and Bastila muffled their chuckles. Revan removed his napkin from his lap and threw it on the table. "Ask for the check…" His voice was directed to no one in particular, but Malak knew he was the one expected to comply "Suddenly watching your bald head made me tired beyond belief…"

* * *

_Upper Sector Coruscant. Republic C__entral Command Enclave. Officers' wing. Summer, 3.962 years before the Battle of Yavin, 22:58 Coruscant Time. Outside girls' room._

The hallways of the Officers' wing were as quiet as one would expect at one o'clock in the morning. The group of friends, exhausted and more than a little lightheaded after their eventful evening, walked slowly but surely towards the girls' room, a plain double bedded suite spartanly furnished and absolutely spotless. He was used by many Officers before, and so would be used again, as in a few hours the group would head out towards the Outer Rim, emptying the Academy. Fresh recruits would arrive and the halls would once again become crowded.

"Malak…" Serra started "Why don't you come on in, let me show you that holo-vid I was talking to you about…"

"Holo-vid? What holo-vid?" He looked into her eyes, then at where she was glancing. Revan, understandingly, simply shook his head. Bastila watched wide-eyed as her friend began to drag the bald man into the room "Oh! Holo-vid, right…"

The two entered the girls' quarters, and Revan turned to the young former Padawan, holding her by the waist and bringing her closer to his body. She laid her hands across his chest, keeping a slight distance, but still gazing directly into his ocean-blue eyes. They stood there, silent, for only a brief moment "Fine night…" the man spoke, at last "A shame it has to end…"

"A wise man once said: Nights end so days can begin anew… Tomorrow, I mean, later today, we'll have more things to look forward to than this night…" She rested her head against his chest, closing her eyes and enjoying the moment, a girlish grin on her lips "Though I truly do wish it would last a while longer…"

He laid a hand at the base of her chin, and raised her face until her eyes once again focused on his. He leaned in, and Bastila's heart skipped a beat. As his lips softly brushed against hers, she instinctively jumped back, breaking their embraced. She couldn't bear to face him, not wanting to see the hurt on his face. The seconds passed, and when he remained silent, Bastila finally risked a glance up. Instead of hurt and confusion, she found only concern "Are you alright?"

"I… I…" She stumbled through her words, until finally, with teary eyes, she continued "I'm sorry… I don't know what just happened to me, I…"

"Hey, hey…" He brought her closer, massaging her arms as to calm her down "We've met only a few hours before… Things like this take time…"

She looked up, and despite Revan's best efforts, he could not conceal a touch of disappointment. She smiled again, and with her eyes filled with the same determination that made her leave the order, she jumped up and into his arms. She was no longer a Jedi, she reminded herself, and the same Code that for years repressed her feelings was no longer valid. Her mind was her own and her heart was hers to give away. If she had any hopes of surviving on the Outer Rim battlefields she needed to let go of her shyness, her ineptness when human interactions were concerned. Her actions needed to be more instinctive, less thought of, and so she followed her gut feeling.

The young man gasped in surprised, but before he knew her lips were pressed hard against his. He lost his balance and the duo fell hard unto the metal floor. They laughed at their clumsiness "I'm sorry…" She began, but never managed to finish her thought. Revan rolled her over, and as her back laid against the cold floor, her arms outstretched, he leaned in. The kiss was clumsy at first, teeth clattering and the angle of their heads not the most appropriate one. But the mood was there, the passion was there, and soon those problems were overturned and their lips parted, their tongues danced together and their minds were in synch.

A good minute afterwards, they were gasping for air, each of their features characterized by a devilish smirk. "That was unexpected…" He said, sitting up "But a welcomed move, all-the-same…"

"I need to constantly remind myself that I'm no longer expected to follow the Jedi Code…" her eyes were gazing upwards, well beyond the Academy's rooftops, and Revan could see that despite her determined look, a turmoil still raged within her mind "I sometimes act like I'm still a Padawan under Vrook…"

"Well, tonight you were a Padawan _under_ Revan…" he said smirking, and she playfully hit him in the chest. He watched as she sat up and rested her head against his shoulder "Besides, any time you want a reminder like that you can ask me…"

"I'll keep that in mind…" she said, groaning as she saw the door to her room open and their friends walking out. Malak smirked deviously, while Serra simply watched, her head slightly tilted to the side, the pair "Is something amusing?"

"Aww… You two look like a pair of Kath puppies…"

"Serra is right…" Malak observed "Any cuter and you'd be on the cover of a card for a cheap-ass department store…"

"Malak…" Revan said, shaking his head. Bastila could only giggle at the young man's discomfort "I swear to you, I have never seen a man with such a knack to break romantic moods… I feel sorry for your future wife…"

"I feel sorry for yours…"

"What? Why?"

"Because I'll always be nearby…" He blinked at the young Colonel and Bastila could swear she had never seen Revan look so miserable "But onto more important matters: So you're… bedding, aren't you…"

"Malak!"

The bald man looked at Serra, who was staring at him wide eyed. "What?"

"You'd tell a person her mother died with a smile, wouldn't you?"

"You need a bit more sensitivity, Malak?"

Malak watched dumbstruck the sitting Padawan "For crying out loud Bastila, a few hours ago you were asking me for love hints, and now you're giving them to me?"

She got up, her eyes flaring with unrestrained anger "How in Vandar's name such preposterous, dimwitted, narrow-minded character ever became a hero of the Republic, I will never know…"

She walked past him, into her room, and shut the door. Malak stared as Revan got up and observed him, his eyes filled with pity "Too much?" the bald man asked.

"You've got the touch of a Hutt proctologist, my friend…" Revan said, tapping him slightly on the shoulder as he walked past him. He stood before Serra, and kissed her on the cheeks "Good night, Ms Ors… Please do remind Bastila that we leave at 0900 hours… In front of the Scythe…"

"Will do…" She responded, in her usual joyful tone "Get some rest… You look like you could do with a bit of sleep…"

"I sure can… Good night…" He responded with a smile, walking away. Malak quickly said his goodbyes to the young Padawan, and rushed to meet his best friend. "So, what did you do?" He asked "How far did you go…"

"I kissed her…" He replied, but was quick to correct himself "No, not really… She kissed me… Then I kissed her, then… she… well, you know how it works…"

"That's it?" Malak asked, slight disappointed "We leave you alone for ten minutes and you didn't even cup-a-feel?"

"Of course…" He answered, sarcastically "And if she wasn't into it, her lightsaber would be on my testicles the very next minute…"

"You're no fun…"

"And you're too much fun…"

"See?" Malak had a grin from ear to ear "We complete one another…"

Revan stopped by the door to his room and turned to his friend "Good night, Malak…" He said, but when the man did not respond he continued "What? What's wrong?"

The bald man stared at him with teary eyes, like that of a dog awaiting a treat "I'm waiting for my kiss?"

Revan cursed under his breath and walked into his suite, leaving a rather twisted friend on the hallway by himself. Despite the mistreatment, Malak was satisfied with himself. He started the night with two emotionally repressed Jedi too shy to even make eye contact with one another, now they were a couple.

His means were unorthodox, but the end result was always the same.

Revan and Bastila's history together was about to begin. And Malak had a hunch it would be quite a tale…

* * *

**Author's Notes**** That's it! Sorry for the long wait, I hope it was worth it. I already have the first draft of the next chapter of 'A Knight's Fall'. I'll update it by my 18th birthday, October 10th.**

**Thanks to: Dark Shadows, Bald as Malak, ghostrider, Alice the Raven, Shibboleth's Aeon, xInuyashaxangelx and Adrianna for the lovely reviews.**

**The quote Revan made was from Che Guevara.**

**Sorry for the lack of action, but the next chapter the 'gang' will be in the Outer Rim, doing 'sum killin'… Arg, I suck at 'gangsta' accent…**

**"Sweat saves blood, blood saves lives, and brains saves both."  
-Erwin Rommel**

**I AM NOT A NAZI, before anyone asks...**

**--**

**Update (August 8****th****, 2008) – Revamped chapter is up. It's more fluffy than before, if you're able to believe it. If anyone's reading this before my next update, I'm still looking for a beta reader. If anyone would like to help me out with the development of new chapters and the rewriting of old ones, send me a message or e-mail me.**


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Knights of The Old Republic and all of its characters belong to LucasArts, Bioware and Obsidian

**Chapter 3 – The Siege of Ank Ki'Shor **

_Outer Rim. Surface of Ank Ki'Shor. Outskirts of the Mandalorian stronghold 'The Maw'. Winter, 3.962 years before the Battle of Yavin. 16:00 Local Time. Two weeks after events mentioned in the previous chapter._

**T**he rain fell non-stop in the Outer Rim world of Ank Ki'Shor. A small stream of water ran across the entire length of the Republic entrenchment, which circled around the entire perimeter of the Mandalorian position, a series of trenches and defensive emplacements surrounding their main camp. More than thirty thousand had been killed so far on the attack on the complex, the maze of barbed-wires, laser mines and trenches that most of the time led to nothing but a dead end, with a repeating blaster position ready to hack down the approaching soldiers. Regulars now called it the Maw, and Revan was ordered to take it.

The young Jedi tried in vain to watch the enemy from a periscope-like tool at the outer trench. It was useless… He sighed. A somewhat sinister silence had taken over the battlefield, and nothing but the calming sound of raindrops, deceivingly peaceful, provided a contrast to the events that marked the previous hours.

The Colonel stared in disgust at the mangled bodies, the hundreds of valiant Republic soldiers that had died for the stupidity of a single man. His face still reddened in anger at the thought of the old major, Cossus, a fat Republic officer that only reached such high rank by the fact his father was the senatorial representative of the Duchy of Bespin. When Revan arrived on Ank Ki'shor, the fat man had thought of it not as an aid, a reinforcement, but as an attempt to steal his personal glory. In a brave yet foolish act, he led more than seven hundred men on a frontal assault to one of the allegedly weaker portions of the Maw, only to find, upon getting within less than two hundred meters of the wooden digs, a huge mine field.

As he stood there, a message was being relayed to the man's father. The old Senator, a member of the royal family and third in line to be the Duke, had now lost his only son and heir. A bloody skirmish would most likely occur in the following years, after the old man's death. Favors would be exchanged and throats would be cut. More likely, the conflict would only be solved with the intervention of the Jedi Order.

"Will give them something to do…" Revan said to himself, his breath leaving a trail of white smoke as it left his mouth. He rubbed his face with a gloved hand. It was only 1600 hours and the temperature in the battlefield had already dropped below zero. By nightfall, no living creature would be able to survive outside a shelter, which made the capture of the outer bunkers vital for the siege of The Maw.

The distant sound of caterpillar tracks shook Revan out of his ponderings. The Colonel turned to face his only hope of capturing the Mandalorian positions before nightfall: The Mammoth VI. A relic of the time of Exar Kun, the tank possessed two 250 mm cannons at the front, and three repeating blaster positions. The 30 m long beasts approached in three separate columns, each containing ten units. A tall man in captain colors left the foremost tank and headed towards the colonel.

"Sir…"

"Captain…" Revan nodded his acknowledgement, and went over his plan once again within his own mind. The artillery instructions had been set, and young _Ensign_ Serra Ors now flew one of the Krisen class fighters in charge of obtaining a hard-fought air superiority. His eyes went over to Bastila, his girlfriend… He couldn't contain a touch of excitement as the word passed through his mind. All his life, no matter how proud the life of a Padawan was, he still felt slightly bitter at the thought that his life would never be his own, that the life of a serf was everything in store for him. He yearned to be as the heroes of his favorite novels. What would Tristan be without Iseult or Isolde? Edmond Dantès without his beloved Mercédès? Blackthrone without Mariko? No… He always believed that a man would not be able to consider himself successful until he breaches the barrier of his own loneliness. The Jedi believed such would be achieved by friendship and comradeship. Revan never agreed with it. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts and focusing once again in the matter at hand. Bastila, right now, is but one of his Officers. He sighed, once again addressing the tank commander. "Captain, you'll spearhead our advance. Your tanks will remain as they are, three individual columns until ordered to spread around, each deviating at a 45° angle until you are evenly spread… You will be told when to open fire…"

"Aye, aye, sir…" he saluted and made to move away.

"Captain…" The Officer halted "Spread the word to your men: If those outer defenses fall each of them gets a round of ale on me…"

The Captain smiled "Yes, sir…"

"You advance at 1630… Get ready…"

He didn't wait to hear the man's response. His eyes were once again upon the periscope, but the mud and perhaps even blood still covered the upper lenses. He wouldn't stick his hand out and clean it. That was a sure way to lose a hand. He groaned and picked up the pair of binoculars that hung from his chest "Fuck it…" he said as he climbed the trench and stood on open ground, right at the range of Mandalorian snipers.

Bastila's heart raced wildly. _Is Revan mad?,_ she thought. He simply stared through the double lenses, going over the entire line again and again. For a while, not a single Republic soldier dared to draw a single breath. The silence was broken by a loud, hollow blast, a single sniper round making his way to Revan's forehead. The speed of the Knight's arm was dazzling, and the shot smoldered the ground by his feet. It took some time for her to register what had just occurred, until she saw a trail of smoke coming from the back of Revan's left glove. _He backhanded it!_ she thought. For a while Revan simply stood there, his goggles on his lowered hand, and his gaze firm and slightly angered. The Knight appeared to dare the Mandalorians to attempt another shot. He scoffed and walked back to the trench.

Bastila turned at the sight of an old man, a Sergeant, nodding with gleaming eyes. He turned around and scratched his thin white hair upon noticing the Jedi's inquisitive eyes. "That, Miss…" he pointed at Revan "… is how you can tell a leader from an Officer…"

The former Padawan had no reply to his comment. She simply stared at the lean young man, whose thoughts completely diverted from hers. While her mind once again wondered how could this be the same shy man she had met not a few days before, while his was but a mess of mathematical equations and tactical options. Indeed, Revan's thoughts were on the order of events about to unfold, the number of casualties considered acceptable. He estimated a thousand lives lost, if his plan was followed to perfection.

A thousand lives… for a kilometer of mud.

* * *

_Outer Rim. __Orbit of Ank Ki'shor. Aboard the GRV Pendragon. Winter, 3.962 years before the Battle of Yavin. 16:00 Local Time._

Serra checked for the last time the straps to her flight-suit. The dark grey fabric shone slightly with the dim red light that marked the small assembly by the Battleship's hangar. When Revan had asked her, the night before, for her specialty, she had responded, without a second thought, flying. She was always an expert pilot, and since her childhood days, Serra's obsession with engines, machines and vehicles caused a tad of concern to her 'once proud' family. It never ceased to annoy her much her family was tied to the rules of Alderaanian aristocracy, even though it had been centuries since the Ors went from rich merchants to impoverished snobs. She still remembered the long boring hours on learning which fork went with each dish, how best to wipe your mouth at the table and a whole bunch of stupid policies fashioned for no other reason than to make those unaware of them look ridiculous. When the Order opened a window for her to leave that prison, she didn't flinch. Little did she know that she was only trading one prison for another.

She was taken under the Jedi's wings at the age of seven, and she was much older than the usual first-timers at the Dantooine Enclave. It was then she became friends to at the time five-years-old Bastila Shan. Bastila had been taken against her will, and she spent the better part of the first week crying, sorrowfully calling out for her father in her sleep. It was a hard blow to be dealt, she imagined. At that age she had seen the Order as a camp, a place she could do everything she dreamed of. Alderaan had always been pro-Jedi, if you can call it. The Order was the embodiment of everything Alderaanians believed right. They were knights of justice, philosophers, priests. In a way, they were right. But much like Alderaan itself, the Order had a pretty face to a somewhat rotten institution. Traditions and friendship, contacts and influence… The Jedi, for their opposition to greed and lust, exerted their influence in the Senate with the ability of a lobbyist. They had a guild-like structure, allowing a good dosage of freedom amongst the Padawans, Knights and even Masters, but the Council, and higher posts, belonged to followers of a single path, to followers of a millennia-old tradition. While there were noticeable exceptions, such as Vandar, who appeared to be a bit more liberal in his beliefs, no Jedi Master of any importance was anything but a staunch conservative.

So when the opportunity came for her to actually become something more than a librarian, or a scholar, when the opportunity had come for her to actually become a knight to the rescue of the Republic, she had taken it. The Revanchists split the Order into two, and for the first time since her childhood years she actually felt free. Now, though, the only thought in her mind was the nervousness of her first battle…

She was twenty years old, a few months younger than Revan, a year younger than Malak, and two years older than Bastila. All her pilot experiences had been either within a simulator or on a non-combat situation. Now, as she went through the small distance to the gathering of pilots of the newly formed _Raven_ _Wings_, she wondered at the prospect of her first kill. Would she flinch? Would she regret? The voice of the squad commander pushed those doubts from her mind. It was time…

"For those of you who don't know me: My name is Colonel Manfred Richt, leader of the _Raven Wings_… The man beside me is my second in command, Major Corr Mannock…"

Serra took some time to watch their features. They were both on their mid thirties. Richt's hair was short-cropped, an inch or so away from being completely bald, and he carried himself with an air of absolute superiority to those around him. It didn't get to the point of being snobbish. He was a veteran, and he exhaled the experience obtained, she had heard, from over 100 confirmed kills. His face was young, with few wrinkles, perhaps even fewer than Revan's, demonstrating the man's absolute calm. His eyes, light blue ones, were not fierce, they didn't gleam or shine like those of an inspirational leader. They appeared completely bored. Mannock, on the other hand, looked more like the determined leader she had expected. His pitch black eyes gleamed with the stare of a wolf. His face seemed older, his prodding cheekbones and lean lips complimented his eyes to the point he appeared a bird of prey, silently standing on Richt's shoulders and waiting for his attacking call. He was perhaps an inch or two taller than the Colonel's six feet. They were not images of perfect Officers, they didn't appear anything other than killers. They were, however, the face of efficiency.

Richt continued "I know this is our first assignment together, and that we did not have the time it usually takes to develop a sort of unity on our squadron, but by with the amount of quality amongst us we can't help but succeed…" He stopped for a few moments, taking a handkerchief from within his flight-suit and wiping off the sweat from his forehead. However cold it was out in space, the hangar was usually far hotter, with engines firing up and several different machines and computers fueling, arming, moving the several fighters and bombers to their positions. Serra now wished she had brought a handkerchief with her. Richt's face lightened, and his hand extended towards her "We've got a Revanchist on our squad, a Jedi, not to mention former mercenaries from the Hun asteroid ring, Officers from the 501st, amongst others…"

Serra's eyes went along the other members of her squadron. Richt and Mannock, along with herself and the two pilots from the 501st, were the only humans on the squad. Twi'lek and Trandoshan ensigns, a Ferroan and a Langhesi that apparently enlisted together, a Fosh, a Mon Calamari, a Dathomir human, a Zabrak, a Weequay, a Rattataki… It was quite possibly the most diverse squadron in the Republic fleet. Usually, for the sake of better adaptation, species were kept together. A Twi'lek squadron, a Bothan squadron… That was the rule. Something told Serra this was no ordinary squad. These Officers were hand-picked. And she was amongst them for being personally indicated by Colonel Revan… At that moment she made a silent promise to be worthy of her place. She would be the top pilot on that squad…

Richt had continued to speak "… _you are the elite._ I expect no less from you than I expect from myself. We will leave this hangar with objectives, and we will accomplish them… Major…"

Mannock stepped forward "We'll be the first ones above the Maw. Revan wants complete air superiority, and that's what we'll deliver. Our primary objectives are to neutralize the Mandalorian's SAM sites. Their location will be marked on your HUD, along with possible fighter platforms. Once the SAMs are out, the rest of the boys will come out and fight. The combat will involve thirty five allied squadrons, and intel tells us we're evenly matched. Your Stingray fighters will be armed with light Hurricane missiles, photon torpedoes and the usual double laser cannon… Any questions?"

"When do we launch?" the Mon Calamari asked.

"Five minutes from now…" He scanned the faces for any signs of doubt. When he was satisfied, he took a step back. Richt concluded the small gathering "To you ships, brothers, and to the bloody job that awaits us…"

The group scrambled, and both Serra and the Dathomir, a woman named Muriel Dax, her new wingman, went to their respective fighters.

The Stingray was a lean, elegant fighter. Its wings, prodding out from below the spherical cockpit's midsection, angled forward and upwards, until they almost touched the ship's nose, with a trio of small afterburners jutting out from beneath them, and a laser cannon at each of their fronts. The main structure, the shape of a long lied-down pyramid with the cockpit at its rear, had two separate set of hatches. One, nearer to the cockpit, opened up to free up the guided missiles; the other, a pair near the front, was responsible for firing the photon torpedoes. It was a wonderful machine, and Serra felt honored to be able to fly it. As she climbed up the stairs to the her cockpit, the fighter lit up, its HUD glowing a vibrant green in contrast to the hangar's red light. Several buttons and indicators beeped to life and a low hum of the ship's engines caused a chill to go up his spine. The fighter seemed fit for her. In a way, it reminded her of her lightsaber, a slick killing machine that dealt fatal blows with the grace of a rapier. She adjusted herself on the black leather seat, and the ship's control stick extended to just before her abdomen. The canopy went down, and with a siren, the red light from the hangar darkened, leaving only a bright blinking trail leading from each fighter towards the launching platform and the planet before them. Serra's fighter was fifth in line, and she waited in silent anticipation as one Stingray after another dashed out of the Pendragon. When her time came, she guided her ship through the flashing lights, until the throttles automatically flipped to their max. She directed the shield's power to the front, as the immense, grayish sphere before her became bigger and bigger, until it covered her entire sight. The heat indicator moved upwards, slowly but steadily leaving the so-called safe-zone as the fighter darted through the planet's atmosphere.

Slight red tints began to take form on the corners of the canopy. Despite having flown at planet approaching training sessions dozens of times before, Serra could not contain that churning feeling, the tight knot in her stomach at the image of what would happen if there was but a crack on the plasteel windows. Her flesh burnt off her bones, the Stingray bursting into a fireball… all before she could even blink…

A loud hissing sound eased her worries. The fighter was cooling down and clouds of smoke left random points of the Stingray's structure. The first circle of hell was now well behind her. The second was fast approaching…

From the ground, she had never understood why the Mandalorian stronghold was called 'The Maw'. Now, it was all as clear as the morning skies. Never before had she seen such a puzzle, such a wild hedge of trenches, corridors filled with barbed wire, clear patches where mines were apparently buried, hundreds of concrete bunkers, foxholes, RB positions. The SAM sites were just ahead, but even with them gone, she guessed it would take weeks for the Republic to actually fight its ways towards the inner fortifications.

The red dot representing her target for the first time left the edge of her HUD. _Less than ten clicks away…_ And then she saw it. At first she thought it was a moss-covered hill. Serra narrowed her eyes, noticing the all-too-familiar patterns of camouflage screens. For once she thanked the Force the missiles were computer-targeted, for she couldn't tell one site from the other, especially at her current speed. A countdown meter had been ticking at the top left corner of her HUD, and she readied herself for the following events. A red light turned green, her trigger finger tensed up, and hellfire rained over the Maw.

It was brutally beautiful. The colorful trail of the missile, the musical whistle of their departures, the powerful imagery of the immense fireball… On the holo-net this would have made an amazing movie. On the battlefield, she was thankful the first agonizing screams were muffled by her fighter's engines. Over a hundred explosions rocked the planet's very core, and had it not been raining a cloud of dust would've taken over the entire horizon. It did not stop a trail of black smoke from leaving each and every one of the hit SAM sites. The job was done, and it had been easier than Serra had expected.

"Breaking comm. silence…" Richt's voice echoed the short length of her canopy "Bogies airborne, I repeat: bogies are airborne… Lock your targets, stick to your wingmen and scramble…"

She pulled her steer upwards, and she began to gain altitude. The clouds would be the best place to fight until the rest of the attack force arrived. Somewhere at her right a lightning scorched the skies, and the glass front of her canopy was covered in raindrops with the same speed as they trailed sideways and upwards, hurriedly making their way over the fighter's length due to its velocity. On her left, still more than thirty clicks away, the first group of Mandalorian fighters were fast approaching. They were unlike any standard Republic fighter. For once, they didn't have any wings, and the ordinary horizontal platform was replaced by a sat up, tied down, fighter, watching over a vertical canopy on a vertical fighter. They looked like a snail's coiled shell with a canopy up top and rocket engines at the bottom, a pair of cannons at each side and a railing-gun at its front. She couldn't see any missile compartment, but she'd bet her wage they were there. She steered until the fighter would angle closer and closer to the approaching foes. When her target reticule was fully locked-on, she pressed the crimson trigger.

Against ground opponents, the Hurricane had the advantage of covering a bigger area. In air-to-air combat, they'd knock the engines off three different ships with a single shot. The green trail angled downwards, until it stopped more than a click away from the targets. The main shell burst into flames, releasing a dozen red-trailed explosive charges that, by now, were automatically aimed to different subsystems of each fighter. Within a blink of an eye, four slugfighters, as they were commonly known, were going down in a trail of black smoke. A loud beep momentarily took her away from all the fighting. The countdown had reached zero. The ground fight was about to begin.

* * *

_Outer Rim. Surface of Ank Ki'Shor. Outskirts of the Mandalorian stronghold 'The Maw'. Winter, 3.962 years before the Battle of Yavin. 16:30 Local Time._

Revan's glance never left the grey horizon, lit every couple of seconds by bright bursts of light. Those, he knew, were not lightning blasts. The battle for the planet's airspace had begun, it was time for the ground team to do its share. The loud booms of the missiles and bombs being dropped in the Maw's core were soon joined by a low, deathlike whistle. The Knight was deafened by the mass of ion shells raining upon the Mandalorian positions, bursting in light-blue flames. On his right, a concrete bunker caved in after being hit by three separate artillery shells. The signal for the beginning of his advance came a few moments later. Three shells detonated a few yards before hitting the ground, and a cloud of white smoke slowly took over his surroundings. He slowly made his way through the trenches to the front line. It was time…

The 30 m long tracks of the Mammoth VI tanks treated the Republic entrenchment as a mere bump in the road, and at precisely 1630 hours they left the protection of the dug-in trenches to the muddy ground before them. There had been no time to remove the bodies of those fallen in the previous attack, so at every meter they advanced the tanks mangled through the bodies of countless Republic soldiers. It was a gruesome scene, but Revan had seen far worse in the short time he had been at the head of an army. Those being crushed were already dead. The sight paled in comparison to the despair of those being hurled into the cold depths of space, their lungs craving for an intake of air that simply did not exist. He shook his head, ridding himself of those grim thoughts. It was not the time to think of fallen soldiers, but to give his best so that those around him would not meet the same fate.

In masterful precision, the tank columns began to disengage and assume a line formation. At 700 m mark, the Mandalorian artillery began firing. Hundreds of shells hit the ground besides the tanks, propelling a combination of mud and body parts high into the air. The first artillery shell to hit its target didn't actually cause any damage. The metallic fireball disintegrated itself in contact to the armored tank, releasing several sparks of molten metal all around the vehicle.

An imposing tower of black smoke amidst the white fog marked the first casualties the Republic suffered during that attack, an armor piercing shell made it's way into a Mammoth tank in the middle of the, now formed, line.

"Bayonets fixed!" the young Colonel yelled. The standard 'bayonet' was a burst of concentrated flame at the edge of each rifle. Not every shot that left a gun could penetrate a Mandalorian armor. It all depended on angle, distance, what kind of weapon was being fired. That alone made that small length of steel-melting flame as vital to the attack as any artillery shell being thrown at their emplacements. Revan took a deep breath, calming himself for the advance about to occur. At his side, he could see Bastila's hurtful glare piercing through his attempts of concentration. He had ordered her to stay back, and the former Padawan did not take the news lightly. It took a lot of courage to leave the Order and join the war, not to participate in any of the fighting. Yet the Knight was firm in his position. The Mandalorians were not practice dummies or even Republic Regulars. They were wrathful, armed-to-the-teeth adversaries, and more than a match for the average Jedi Padawan. It was not the fitting first opponent for his young dame.

As the tanks hit the 600 m mark Revan jumped out the trench, followed by nearly ten thousand Republic soldiers. His boots were buried with each step in a sea of mud, and the Republic infantry moved perhaps even slower. He ignited his purple blade, lifting it high above his head to draw the attention of those being left behind. At his far left, Malak matched his move and ignited his own orange saber. All across the line, Jedi Knights and Padawans pushed the regulars forward, with yells of encouragement and reprimand. Somewhere further back, the Knight caught a glance of an all-too-familiar weapon, Bastila's yellow saber-staff. He cursed out loud. It was not the time to stop and order her back. Grudgingly, he turned once again towards the target, and with a burst of speed overtook the now slowly advancing tanks.

His mind once again focused on his girlfriend. The sweet and insecure little Bastila seemed but a memory. Now, a strong and confident woman replaced her, willing to defy every order, to question every bit of logic, to argue every point. Revan, never one for what in his view were needless arguments, had a personal reason to maintain them: the making up afterwards. It was HK who best described their relationship: 'An endless sum of bickering, shouting and disagreement, with the occasional brawl from the female human's side'. And both of them loved every aspect of it.

Revan mentally kicked himself. He was in the middle of a battle, gunfire rang all around him, and all he could think of was Bastila. He cursed, his eyes once again going over his surroundings. Directly at his right, a very noisy HK droid hurried to catch up to its master's jog. Revan really liked his droid… no matter how much Bastila asked him to scrap it. Sure… one would classify him as a homicidal maniac, had he been human, but Revan appreciated his sadistic humor more than Malak's. Not to mention the usefulness of a Hunter-Killer droid in the middle of a war. Countless doorways had been unlocked and bastions taken because within them there was a droid that did not serve its apparent masters.

The Mammoth tanks finally reached the 200 m mark, halting their advance. A second later, the massive twin cannons on its towers began shelling the Mandalorians with the power of a mammoth horde. 'Hence the name, perhaps…' Revan thought, as the infantry line reach halfway across the field, right at the maximum range of the repeating-blaster positions.

Revan smiled. By his count nearly half of the Mandalorian RB nests had been blown up by either artillery shell or Mammoth fire. Still, the remaining ones still managed to withstand the barrage of shots being fired from the tanks well enough to fire a lucky burst at advancing Republic forces. "Jedi to the front!" Revan yelled, his command echoing through the battlefield. The head of the lines became a blur of color that fired back half the shots that came their way. Everything was going according to his plan "Grenades first, spread the word!"

"Grenades first!" Officers and Sergeants echoed his orders all across their lines, and when the large mass of men passed him through, Revan joined them. One out of every four regulars drew a thermal detonator from his belt and readied the throw. It was a move trained to exhaustion on every boot camp across Republic space. The thermals flew, the rifles burst into life.

The noise of over seven thousand laser projectiles being fired per second filled the battlefield quickly. The thermal detonators tore every bunker and trench a new entry as they burst into a cloud of mud and flames. Revan stepped into the nearest trench with his saber low, parallel to his leg, ready to slash upwards at the mere sight of a Mandalorian foe.

The first came when he turned the first corner, and it was hardly a fair fight. The blue-armored foe was still stunned from a nearby blast, and his head came out with one, clear, powerful swing from Revan's sword arm. As the man fell, Revan caught his first glance of a fallen Mandalorian Officer, with his pistol in hand, aiming at the Colonel's head. Before he got a chance to fire, his throat was pierced by a soldier's bayonet. His corpse twitched for a few seconds, Revan guessed from the unbearable pain of having his airway cooked with each attempt to breathe, before falling limp. No scream left his mouth, mainly because his vocal chords must have been amongst the first tissues to be burnt. Revan took a few steps forward, patting the soldier on his shoulders "Good man…"

His eyes ran the entire length of the trench, as far as he could see. The white cloud that covered the distance between his position and the Republic trench was all but vanished. At the battlefield, he could imagine that close to a thousand soldiers had fallen to still-active RB nests. Still, the battle was far from finished. Close to thirty bunkers remained sealed off by massive durasteel blast-doors, and the advance for the night would not be complete until those were also taken.

"Breach those bunkers, you know the drill… Thirty men apiece!"

The men gathered their grenades and began preparing for the breach protocols. Revan felt a tug at his leg, and turned around to find a Mandalorian firmly gripping his leg with one hand and holding out a blaster rifle. Before he had the chance to react, the man's head was cut off with a twirl of a yellow saber-staff. Bastila smiled mischievously at him, only to frown immediately afterwards at seeing his calm, almost disappointed stare. "You've disobeyed me…"

"I just saved your life, that's what I did…" She answered, slightly hurt at the implication "If I hadn't been here he would've…"

"He would've been taken care of…" He interrupted and Bastila did not doubt for a moment of the man's words. "But had a counter attack been launched against the Republic trenches we'd be a Sentinel too short on its defenses, would we not?"

She frowned "I am not a child to be scorned…"

Revan sighed "Bastila, I cannot hold you within my arms at each battle. While I have no intention to keep you away from the fight I certainly do believe you aren't ready to lead an unit…"

"I can fight…"

"I do not doubt it, but being a Jedi, especially at war times, is not just about being a good fighter… We lead these men. When they need instructions they come to us. You're now more than a Jedi, you're an Officer, and until I get you to Drakkonis for special training you won't be ready for a frontal assault. I can trust you to defend and aid those around you, but I cannot give you the order to breach, to flank, to encircle… That's why Serra is right now flying a fighter a few dozen miles away. Those rules are the same of the Order's simulators. Down here, on the mudded ground, it's not the gallant duels of the Jedi's training. I learned that the hard way…"

Both Revan and Bastila knelt down with their hands on their ears as a nearby blast door flew away from its hinges with a loud deafening explosion. "Damn blast…" she muttered. Bastila had a ringing sound echoing within her earlobe since the first artillery shell had crashed against the Mandalorian trenches. But now, she could barely hear anything "Are my ears red?"

"What?" He yelled, not hearing a thing.

"_My ears, are… they… red_?" She repeated, pointing at her earlobes. "From the blast, are they red?"

"Yes, yes, Bastila, lovely new earrings…" She could not hear him, but could well enough read his lips. She punched him in the gut and the Colonel stood there clutching at his abdomen, a confused look upon his face "What did I do?"

"Grr! Forget it…" She said, walking away.

"Women…" He shook his head, standing up straight once again at the approaching form of his Hunter Killer droid "Yes, HK, what is it?"

"**Statement:** If I may interrupt, master, the charges are ready…"

"And something tells me you want to lead the breach…"

The red visual orbs seemed to glow "**Delighted Statement:** You've read my memory core, Master…" The droid looked at Revan for a while, before speaking "**Irresponsible Question:** You heard her every word, did you not, Master?"

"Yes…"

"**Question:** Then why did you not tell her so?"

Revan smiled warmly for the first time that day "Because she looks more beautiful when angry…"

"**Disgusted Statement:** Master, I'll never understand why you humans have not yet invented a vaccine against this disease, this…" Revan was impressed with the disgusted sound that came out of his droid "…_love_…"

"We have, HK…" He patted the droid in the shoulder, and made to leave "It's called the Jedi Order… Just don't say anything to Bastila."

"**Hopeful Reply:** If you let me lead the breach, Master, my voice sensors are shut…"

"Alright… I'll compromise…" He answered, once again feeling closer to his droid "But you'll have to leave some of them for me…"

"**Flattering: **I would be glad to, Master…" the droid seemed to hesitate "**Realistic Statement:** But I will make no promises…"

* * *

Before every major storm, there is a period of quiet peace. Before every assault, there is a period of inactivity. At that particular moment, as the charges were being set to the doorway into the closest bunker, Revan couldn't help but feel strangely at peace with his surroundings. Of course the occasional gunshot was still heard here and there, as everywhere across the advance line there were still resistance points, particularly across bunkers and foxholes, but for the most part, Revan could hear the sound of the raindrops hitting the muddy ground.

Amongst all sounds possibly heard at a battlefield, it was a low beep that finally shook him off his musings. His deep blue eyes stared upwards, to a man knelt above the bunker doors, upon the concrete roof. His rifle laid limply upon his left hand, while his right hand closed around a standard thermal detonator. All around him, thermals and concussion grenades were set to blow, and when every man was ready, the small permacrete charges went off in near silence.

Within a battlecruiser, charges were set to blow doors off its hinges. To breach a bunker, it was smarter to blow the concrete walls off the door's lock. A small hole, not two feet wide, was scorched around the doorway, a round sealing mechanism, similar to the door of a bank's vault. As soon as the charges had been set off, a huge soldier, over seven feet tall, pulled the handle with his entire strengths. Revan watched in some form of dreaded wonder at the precision of the move. His soldiers threw more than a dozen grenades within the bunker, each going off not three seconds after the first throw had been made. Afterwards, two flash grenades were hurled in, blinding any who may still be inside and lucky enough to be amongst the living. He smiled at the sight of a crimson-colored droid hurrying through the open door.

"You've had your fun…" the Knight mumbled as he jumped forward, speeding through a stunned soldier. He knelt within the bunker walls just in time to witness his droid's first shot. The laser projectile hit a Mandalorian in the intersection of his T-shaped visor, ricocheting inside the dead man's helmet at least a dozen times before exiting it with a new hole in the man's visor, bringing along a mass of blood, shattered bones and cerebral tissue.

All around him Republic soldiers stormed the room, firing at everything that moved. "First floor clear, search for an exit!" He yelled.

"Stairs!" a soldier on his left held position next to a stairway down. He rushed forward, beating HK to the new killing ground by a few meters. As his feet hurriedly covered the small way down, his lightsaber lit up, its purple blade lighting the way into an otherwise pitch black path. It was that dim light that gave him first notice of a vibroblade sweeping towards his neck. He rolled to the ground as the blade passed inches away from the top of his head, slashing his sword upwards to sever the Mandalorian's leg. Revan knelt to the ground, his blade held close to his face in full guard position. HK moved next to him, his rifle aimed forward, apparently at no particular target "Can you see them?"

The droid nodded, and with one quick swoop, from left to right, fired three bursts off his rifle, each lighting the room for a brief period of time, enough to see the gruesome results of the previous shot. Revan watched as his soldiers rushed down the stairs, and flinched as one of them was hit in the chest by a burst from a Mandalorian in an adjacent room. Every Republic trooper fired on the approximate location of the target, but it was HK's shot that finally hit the mark.

Revan rushed forward, throwing a thermal detonator as he advanced to the nearest room. The blast took out two Mandalorians, standing close to the doorway, but a third unleashed a burst at the Colonel's approaching form. The former Knight dived to the ground just as the laser projectiles passed through where he had been, hitting a soldier just behind him. As a death spasm, the man squeezed the trigger of his blaster rifle, killing three other soldiers before Revan managed to cut off his hand. The bloodbath continued…

He hurried down yet another set of stairs, arriving at the last room of the bunker: the sleeping quarters. Close to twenty Mandalorians eagerly awaited the Republic troops, and the moment Revan's feet touched the dirt-covered floor, more than a dozen angry enemies charged at him with their vibroswords drawn. He drew out his pistol, taking out three Mandalorians before the group was able to approach him. In one quick movement, Revan jumped above the group, beheading four of them with a twirl of his saber while his left hand quickly put away his blaster on his side holster. His feet met the back of a stunned Mandalorian, pushing him further into the room at a group of approaching enemies. The former Knight turned around just in time to see the head of his now furthermost foe being blown apart by a Republic soldier with an ion shotgun. More than a dozen soldiers stormed the poorly lit quarters, firing as they advanced towards the now decimated group of Mandalorians still between Revan and the doorway. They expected a one-sided fight against a broken opponent. It was a mistake they'd never get the chance to repeat.

While fighting the few remaining soldiers now pinned down against the opposite wall, Revan could not contain a sad thought from appearing on his mind. There was a reason the Republic had been losing the war so far. It had nothing to do with weapon technologies or logistical difficulties. In a battlefield, it all fell into the hands of the soldiers, and by the Force, Revan thought, these men were anything but soldiers.

With all the ease in the world, soldier after soldier was hacked down by the cohesive group still upon the door, and it wasn't until HK-47 and Bastila arrived on the scene that the situation actually began to change. The female Jedi plunged her saber-staff at the visor of the first enemy, while the demonic droid blew off kneecaps and shoulder blades with well aimed bursts from his repeating blaster rifle. Bastila used the Force to push them all back, to where Revan, now alone, awaited. His purple saber sung its deadly hum as it killed each foe thrown at him with the ease of a butcher.

Revan stood there observing as Republic soldiers entered the room, checking each fallen enemy for vitals. His gaze fell to his lover, Bastila, and he could not contain a slight smile from creeping in to the side of his lips. Her forehead was drenched in sweat, and even in the middle of the poorly lit room it made her pale skin gleam. She breathed heavily after quite possibly the most intense fighting she had ever been to in her entire life. She noticed his stare and smiled back.

HK's head noisily went from side to side, observing the couple, until the droid could no longer stand being in the same room. His joints and parts cringed together as he hurriedly got up the short flight of stairs, back to the cold afternoon of Ank Ki'shor. As he watched the planet's double moons' silhouettes creeping out from beneath a cloud, he wondered about the unfairness of the universe, and how biological beings were able to achieve such domination when each and every single one of them was prone to this weird pathological condition, this horrible mishap of nature, this feeling that made them overlook perils, advantages, their very reason, for the sake of companionship.

His musings were cut short, though, by a grunt coming from a fallen Mandalorian. His philosophical considerations were put on hold, for nature had at least granted these biological meatbags with one major advantage over their artificial counterparts.

The droid's rifle shone red, and then blue, until a highly concentrated flame appeared from just beneath the end of its barrel. "**Observation: **It is these moments in my short existence that make the interactions with you, meatbags worthwhile…" his crimson eyes seemed to glow "**Proposition:** Let's see if this emotion, this _suffering,_ as you call it, can be as appreciated the rest…"

* * *

_Outer Rim. Surface of Ank Ki'Shor. Outer Circle of defenses of the Mandalorian stronghold 'The Maw'. Winter, 3.962 years before the Battle of Yavin. 18:35 Local Time._

A single light bulb illuminated the room, the energy wire swung back and forth in rhythmic motion, from the wind, and its halo of light constantly left Revan's face. He didn't care. His fingers furiously tapped the plugged-in keyboard on his personal datapad, imputing statistics and figures, supply levels and ammo crates. He sighed, deeply, rubbing the sides of his forehead with his index fingers "Ok, I'm ready, what are the numbers?"

Colonel Manfred Richt produced a small datapad from the inner pocket of his thick, woolen overcoat. It was twenty degrees negative on the outside, and Revan's insistence on keeping a window open brought the entire harshness of Ank Ki'Shor's winter to the inside of the bunker. His eyes briefly went over the window to the outside. It had begun to snow. "Four hundred men down, double that for the wounded. Ten fighters downed, half of that in need of repair. No artillery pieces destroyed, eight tanks gone to hell…"

Revan's eyes went to another new face in the room, the newly promoted Major Lucius Yorn, the tank commander "That leaves us with…"

"With the ones we've managed to fix from the previous battle, close to forty…"

"Against their…"

"Our lower case scenario is twenty thousand men, higher case is seventy thousand."

"Any word on reinforcements from the Capital?"

"No deal… They claimed every soldier was needed to maintain 'civil order' on the city."

"There'll be neither civilians nor order if we don't take them out here…" The knight said, sighing "Strange that they order me to take out a Mandalorian garrison and fail to provide me with the tools to do so…"

Lucius chuckled "That's blasted army life for you, sir…"

"I suppose so…" Revan groaned before shifting uneasily on his chair "That bloody well rules out a direct assault. We have, what, twelve thousand men if we muster our reserves? I'm not sure we're safe enough here if they sally out tonight…"

"No chance…" Malak said, taking a bite from a piece of dried meat "We've got RB foxholes every hundred yards and anti-tank guns every two hundred yards… If they sally out they'll find nothing but ion and led…"

Bastila raised her eyebrows "Lovely imagery…"

"We could starve them…"

"That won't bloody do, will it?" Revan's voice carried a tone of irritation. Despite being the besieging force, he felt strangely cornered. He hated the feeling "Richt, here, tells me this was a colony before the wars… Force knows how many grain and dried meat they've got stored beneath the ground…"

"It's just like Dxun…" Richt explained "Started as a small settlement, then the local rule chose not to do anything about it. Before they knew it, it was a whole blasted city… They couldn't control it, they couldn't evict them… When the wars came, the Neo-Crusaders, as they call themselves, took things over and made this an advanced military post. Intelligence suspects an invasion would occur in the following months with the Maw as a beachhead…"

"Which means we're fucking stuck here…" Revan concluded with unrestrained irony "Let's think of the positives… What do we have that they don't?"

"Air superiority…"

"Correct…" Revan nodded, looking at Malak "Which means that while we're hardly in a position to attack them or _penetrate, _let's say, their defensive positions… _But,_ they can't maneuver…"

"You're thinking bombing the shit out of them…" Malak said, removing a datapad from a pouch at his belt "We certainly have the means… Ank Ki'shor manufactures heavy payload artillery pieces…" He looked at some numbers flashing on the green crystal screen "We can have a firing arch on the northern banks if by the morning if one of us makes for the capital tonight…"

"Excellent…" Revan said "And meanwhile, Karath is above us with the Third Fleet…"

"So they'll be either burned or buried alive…" Bastila frowned "No honor or glory on that one…"

"In war it's always us or them, Bastila…" The former Knight leaned forward onto the plain desk, resting his forehead on his palm "But if anyone has a better idea, I'm all ears…"

"There is none…" Malak said, making the matter a final one "It may well be dishonorable or devoid of any glory, but with the amount of troops we have here there's no other choice…"

"So we are _all_ agreed?"

Revan's entire counsel nodded. Bastila took a little longer to agree, but in the end she went along and nodded her head, staring worriedly at Revan's eyes.

"Very well, then…" He rose, and every officer in the room followed "Richt, go to our friends on the skies… The bombardment starts at first light… Oh, and do please ask Ms Ors to come down here and help Malak…"

"Help me?"

"What, a thousand artillery pieces will arrive by the morning? We need trenches and foxholes to place them. You and Serra will organize small groups of men, none working more than two hours straight, so they can have some rest… Alternate between groups as to not arouse the suspicious eyes of our Mandalorian friends…"

"Alright…"

"Oh, and promote some sergeants… I want every group of half a dozen artillery pieces to be watched over by either a sergeant or an officer…"

"Fine…" Malak raised an eyebrow in suspicion "What will you do?"

"I…" Revan began, gathering up his papers and datapads "… will be going to the capital, and start requisitioning the much needed artillery guns… Bastila and Major Yorn will accompany me…"

"Fine, but you listen to me…" Malak leaned forward and his serious tone surprised every one in the room "You better make damned good use of those warm blankets and fluffy pillows, 'cause if I find out you spent the night at a fucking warehouse with your head resting on a datapad, I swear to you Revan: I will shove that lightsaber of yours so far up your ass there'll be a purple light coming out of your mouth!"

The whole counsel laughed loudly, but Revan only managed to shake his head and smile, sadly "Oh, dear friend…" he began "Expecting subtlety and moderate counseling from you is like expecting ballet steps from an Iridonian wild boar…"

Another ripple of laughter went across those present, but Revan and Malak's gaze remained locked, with the former's sad smile still fixed on his thin lips "I'll try… Alright? I'll try…"

"Bastila!" Malak pointed almost accusingly at the young former Jedi "You're in charge of that…"

She smiled "Fine… I'll deal with it…"

"If this nonsense is over…" Revan said with a sigh "You all have assignments. Get to them…"

The idle chatter of an adjourned meeting followed, as the few present gathered their datapads, info disks and other personal belongings. Revan, however, remained silent. He needed to wake someone up on the industrial ministry of Ank Ki'shor, fill out hundreds of requisition forms and send them back through civilian transportation to the besieging force. He exited the room, oblivious to both Bastila and Major Yorn following him, thinking he'd rather face two hundred Mandalorians on his own than spend another night filling out paperwork. Still, he mused, _it came with the job._

_

* * *

  
_

_Outer Rim. Surface of Ank Ki'Shor. Capital City of Amtal. Winter, 3.962 years before the Battle of Yavin. 23:58 Local Time. Storage Room._

Bastila yawned loudly. It was late, and she had probably just had the most exhausting day in her entire life. Yet, there she was, typing every bit of info Revan ordered her to, on a small keyboard jutting out from the plasteel table. There were so many numbers Bastila's head was already numb. 33478-A4… 33460-B9… Her fingers furiously worked the side number pad on their own. She imagined that if Revan were to ask her to be his bride at that very moment she'd type the request without ever being conscious to it. She chuckled at her own sad situation. Surely, she had seen some action the previous hours, fighting Mandalorians was far more challenging than fighting her peers at the Academy. Yet now all she was able to see was the boring hellish hours of inaction that preceded every battle. _The glory is never at the preparation. Victory is…_ Revan had told her. She imagined he was right, if only because she was too tired to conjure up a good response. She stared at the two men across from her at the table. They both seemed as tired as she was. "Revan… For crying out loud we're all falling apart, here. We need to rest if we're going to be ready for a fight at first light…"

"One: I wouldn't expect a fight at first light… I imagine if any fighting occurs tomorrow it will be a quick skirmish… Some defenders sallying out, trying to destroy the artillery pieces, perhaps…" He stopped what he was doing to rubbed his tired eyes "And two: It's winter… First light doesn't come out until 10AM…"

"And I suppose you're gonna stay here until then…"

"Bast, we're nearly done… Just a few more artillery pieces to catalog…"

"You've got over five hundred already… Surely the rest can wait until the second day."

"Perhaps…"

She sighed "At least let Major Yorn get some sleep…" She nodded at the middle aged Officer "You and I can deal with the rest…"

Revan finally looked up from his requisition forms, gazing between Bastila and Lucius. The older man stuttered a response "I-I'm fine, sir… Perfectly fine, I can stay and look after…"

"You're a bigger wreck than me, Major…" He sighed, his gaze returning to his datapads "You're dismissed… Get some sleep, we meet at the docking bay at 0900 hours…"

"Sir, really, I'm fine…"

"Don't make me repeat myself, Major…"

The man's features became stern. He got up and saluted the Colonel "Yes, sir…"

Revan waited silently until the man's steps could no longer be heard. The loud 'clunk' of the door confirmed that he and Bastila were alone on the storage room "Alright, what do you want?"

"What?"

"You wanted Lucius out of here, you got that… What do you want?"

"I meant every word I said!" She stressed out "I promised Malak I would force you to rest, and that _I will do…_"

"Good luck with that…"

She puffed, angrily… Revan once again managed to drive her to the brink of insanity. Her eyes suddenly widened, and a devilish smirk touched her lips. She knew how to put Revan in a position she could control him "So…" she started "…your hearing is perfectly fine, I take it…"

The former Knight nearly dropped the datapad he was holding "Ah… right… Huh… Well you see, there… ah… Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are?"

"You have…" She said, getting dangerously close to him "…but you're terribly wrong if you think that's gonna let you off the hook."

"Ah…" He said, looking around the room for an excuse to drop the subjects "Oops, look at all those papers I need to sign…"

"Papers?" Bastila said, raising her voice. She looked around the room, searching for any piece of paper. There were none "Revan, this is serious! Since the first day aboard the Scythe I have never seen you do anything out of own interest… That is not good for a person."

"I have responsibilities, Bastila…"

"Be irresponsible for a while!" She said, still not believing she had just said that.

"A Colonel of the Republic cannot _be_ irresponsible!"

"A human being can!" She said, almost crying.

"Well, than I guess I'm a bloody Wookie!"

"Stop joking!"

"I'm not joking!"

"Would you please stop acting for the greater good and actually do something you crave for!"

"FINE!" Bastila was stunned at the velocity that the plasteel table before her crashed against the roof, but her jaw had not even the time to reach its lowest point before she was pushed against the file cabinets at her back. She groaned in a mix of surprise and hurt, but the pain that threatened to surface was immediately numbed by a touch of overwhelming warmth. Revan's thin, pale lips parted hers open with the grace of a krait dragon. The amount of time it took Bastila to respond to the kiss was the approximate time it took for a Gamorrean to realize it was hungry. So, at best guess… a second or so. If any pain or awkwardness was evident of their inexperience, they more than made up with unrestrained passion. A fraction of the Jedi code flashed through Bastila's mind. "_There is no passion…"_ Well, if that was the path to darkness Bastila was well on her way to becoming a full-pledged Sith.

Less than a year ago, that statement would have made her shiver and spend hours on the meditation chamber in full penitence. Now, she was surprised at how easily she had forsaken such dogmas, how quickly she had submitted to passion without even contemplating the implications of her actions.

"Oh, my…" she said, and it was with a smile, creeping at her lips as his kisses made their way towards her earlobe, that she finally realized why it felt so right. This was not mere passion. This was not a mere act of lust. This was love, of the purest form. Passion was dangerous on its own, but when paired with love, it was dwarfed by the magnitude of feelings it brought along. And so, as two teenagers in love, Revan and Bastila fell to the floor. Their hands and lips more explored than caressed, braving their bodies with both the hunger of lust and the care of love.

In the midst of file cabinets and datapads, both Jedi made love.

* * *

_Outer Rim. Surface of Ank Ki'Shor. Outskirts of the Capital City of Amtal. Winter, 3.962 years before the Battle of Yavin. 09:31 Local Time. En Route to the siege of the Maw. __Revan's official speeder. The next day._

A way too silent HK-47 drove the couple of lovebirds towards the siege site. Major Yorn had moved ahead half an hour earlier, with the close to half of the artillery pieces. Now a black speeder with the Republic coat of arms at its doors led the way to a mile long column of transport vehicles. Revan had remained silent for the better portion of the trip, but one needed but to spare a quick glance at his direction to know something had changed. A smug smile had remained on his lips since the night before, and in contrast to the other passenger being transported, he was calmer than a drugged Kath Hound. Bastila, on the other hand, was, as the common man often said 'on the edge'. She looked nervously about her, wondering specifically if anything in her clothing or hair was out of place, if anything on her cheeks denounced an action she went through hell to cover up, and those efforts alone made her as inconspicuous as a Rancor in a dress. As to confirm those predictions, that was the specific time HK-47 had chosen to voice his concerns.

"**Weary Statement**: Sir, may I be honest."

Revan smiled "When have you ever stopped being so?"

"**Proud Reply:** Never, Master." He said, feeling really good about himself, if droids were able to do that "**Statement:** I am deeply surprised to see Female Shan alive, today…"

"Why so, HK?" Bastila asked, waiting for the worst she knew would come, and had spent the entire morning preparing for it.

"**Explanation**: I am ordered to guard Master Revan at all times. Last night, as I was standing at the door to the storage room of our base, I heard you scream aloud several times."

Revan cheekily smirked, and Bastila was already bright red, but HK carried on.

"**Continuing**: I presumed Master was killing you, rather painfully I might add, so I chose to allow it to happen."

"HK…" Bastila started, only to be interrupted by the droid.

"That was, of course, until I heard Master scream as well. I quickly entered the room to see that he was on top of you, and you had your fingernails deeply scratching his back. I presumed, of course, that Master was chocking the life out of your diminished body. **Disappointed Statement**: I was wrong…"

Revan laughed out loud "Oh Force…" He stared at Bastila, noticing her as red as a Sith saber "HK, did you mention this to anyone?"

"**Unbelieving Reply**: And ruin your alibi? Master, I am insulted…"

"HK, you have served me well throughout your existence, and for this I warn you before I take any action: If you ever mention this anyone, and I do mean anyone, you'll become a really temperamental Espresso machine, are we clear?"

"**Query**: Is it an _evil _Espresso machine?"

"HK!"

"**Weary Resignation**: Yes, Master…"

"There…" Revan said, making his words the last on the subject "We speak no more of it…"

The former Knight tried his best to ignore Bastila's hateful stare, not to mention her permanently clenched fists upon her lap. "Scrap him…" she said at last, and the entire length of the trip to the front, the hour and a half still remaining until they reached their destination, was spent with Revan, in the most subservient tone he had ever had to speak in his entire life, pleading his temperamental lover to calm down.

* * *

_Outer Rim. Surface of Ank Ki'Shor. Siege Site of 'The Maw'. Winter, 3.962 years before the Battle of Yavin. 09:47 Local time._

The first light of day presented some much needed warmth to a cold siege, much needed light after an evening filled with darkness. Malak had spent the entire time digging ditches and readying his men for the bloody business about to unfold before his very eyes. The Maw looked as a barren land, a deserted hazard ground, without a shade of light, bereft of even the smallest of plants growing at any point as far as he could see. Yet, in the far horizon, stood the central command center, the only flicker of what could be considered actual engineering work in the entire fortress. It was less than seven stores high, a central octagonal structure, of blackened steel spreading for half a mile across with each corner and each 'aesthetic' add a sharpened spear or a demonic statue. Every aspect of the building was designed to present an air of violence. It did a hell of a better work than a 'keep out' sign.

A true pity to see it razed to the ground.

The first of the six hundred and twenty three artillery pieces fired precisely at 0950, the shell coming out followed by a huge cloud of dark fumes. The second shell was released a split second later, and another one, and another one.

All batteries fired with the precise time difference of half a second. By the time the last battery had fired the first one had already reloaded and fired at least two times. The three Star Destroyers commanded by Admiral Karath had begun firing at the end of the first volley. Its immense laser shells descended so rapidly even Revan's force enhanced eyesight was only able to pick up the exact moment of the explosion against the Maw's metallic covering.

It was well past noon when Revan gave the order for ceasefire and damage assessment. It took over ten minutes for the smoke to clear out, but when it finally did the sight greeting the Republic army was one never before seen in the annals of republican history. The Maw's central structure was completely broken in half. The bottom part still stood, as if nothing had touched it, but the top half was in pieces, molten edges of steel structural columns jutted out as the only reminder that there ever were floors over that ashen limit. Still, that was not what caught the eye of Revan Stormrider. A few yards before the structure, outside the numerous foxholes and trenches, and in plain view of the Republic besieging forces, stood thousands of Mandalorian soldiers. Their once gleaming armor now shone dimly, the dust of the siege covering their entire upper bodies, and the mud from the trenches staining their lower armor from feet to thigh. Even then these men held their ground. Their chests inflated, their shoulders broad and proud, not even a fallen limb – for there were many with severed hands, arms or even legs – could take the dignity off their posture.

A man clad in black armor moved ahead of the Mandalorian ranks, followed by another one donning golden colors. He raised his arm and the Colonel was surprised to see a white handkerchief tied to his wrist. The man spoke under banner of truce "I seek your leader…"

Revan, who was at that particular moment eating a slice of a local citric fruit, spat one the ground, clearing his throat as he walked past his upper trenches, the only place with a clear view of the entire Maw. He slid down the long hillside that stood above the frontal batteries, tapping Malak's shoulders as he passed his friend. The pair moved ahead, and as they closed in on the Mandalorian duo, the young Colonel raised his hand in acknowledgment "That would be me you seek…"

"You?" Even while wearing his helm, Revan could see the genuine surprise at his confirming nod "Good heavens, I was beaten by a child…"

"My name is Revan Stormrider, Colonel of the Grand Army of the Republic…"

"Ah…" The man said, in a tone filled with both recognition and happiness "That explains it… The young Jedi from the Outer Rim skirmishes…"

"The very same…" Revan replied.

"Very well, Colonel…" The man said, assuming a higher respectful tone "Clan Vorm of the Mandalorian Neo-Crusaders requests a final battle against you."

"A final battle?" The former Knight said, surprised "On what terms?"

"You against me…" The Mandalorian nodded towards Malak, then with his thumb pointed towards the man behind him "And your second in command against my champion…"

"In exchange for?"

"If no Mandalorian survive both fights, clan Vorm will fight under your flag." The Mandalorian paused for a moment "If no Jedi survive… Well, no action will be necessary, your troops won't be able to assault our fortress without a leader…"

"We are not the only Officers in the Republic…" Malak said.

"Officers, no…" the man granted, smiling beneath his helm "Leaders… Yes…"

"If we win…" Revan interrupted, practically confirming the fight would take place "You will defect to the Republic?"

"I don't think you follow me, Colonel…" He said, shifting his weight to his left leg "We'll follow your flag and yours alone. We'll be your guard…"

"A personal guard of twenty thousand souls, are you mad?"

"Eighteen, the last we counted…" He sighed "Ought to be less after today…"

Revan nodded, thoughtfully, his chin resting casually at his hand "Tell me…" he said, after a few moments of pondering "Why are you doing this?"

"The Shogun skirmishes, as they are called on planet Mandalore, are teaching materials on our War Academies; and our strategists are still trying to fully understand your victory over Talravin…" His voice was both humorous and proud, and nothing but the purest respect could be found on his speech "We kill you now, we cut off the Republic's right hand… We die before you, our men follow a worthy leader…"

Once again, Revan nodded "Would you allow us a moment to discuss your proposal?"

The Mandalorian nodded, and the two young Jedi walked away. It was Revan who at last broke their silence "What do you think?"

"I sincerely doubt the Senate will agree with this…" He smirked "And Senator Caton will have a field day…"

"He sure will…" Revan agreed "But we must look on the ups of his proposal… If we accept, we may more than double our strength, risking only a pair of lives in the process…"

"My thoughts exactly…" Malak said, nodding "If we decline these men will charge at our positions as ferocious beasts… We will beat them in the end, as we are heavily fortified, but it'll cost us dearly…"

Revan nodded, already turning away "In reality, there is really only one plausible answer…"

"So…" The Mandalorian began "Do you accept our challenge?"

"We do…"

The Mandalorian nodded appreciatively "Do you need time to prepare?"

Both Revan and Malak shook their heads, and the Mandalorian champion, the man clad in golden armor, stepped to stand before the leader of his Clan. Malak did the same, and both Revan and the senior Mandalorian took a few steps back, allowing the dueling pair some breadth to fight in.

Malak ignited his orange saber, holding it vertically, withdrawn in his right flank… he was ready. There was some commotion among his lines. They were not expecting to see a fight under banner of truce "No one moves!" Revan yelled back to Republic ranks "This fight is ours!"

It was Malak, always rather brash and impulsive, who made the first move. He lunged forward, aiming a mid-region slash at the opponent's left side. The Mandalorian Champion parried the blow, twirled away, and sent his vibrosword thrusting at the bald man's ribcage. Malak easily dodged the blow, then kicked the man's heels. The foe lost his footing for only a brief moment, then rolled away from the downward thrust from Malak's saber. The fight continued at an even pace, both men using brute force, strong blows and perfect breathing control to attempt to wear off their opponent. The contest ended as it began, with Malak anticipating a downward hack, and as his enemy had his arms overhead, elbowing him in the chin. This left the Mandalorian dazzled, and when Malak's upward slash reached his neck, there was no vibrosword there to parry the blow.

For a while Malak simply stood there, watching as his opponent's head rolled away from his corpse. The bald man turned away and no joy could be seen upon his face. He simply nodded towards Revan. It was his turn…

The young Colonel ignited his purple saber and moved a few yards to the left. He would not fight over the corpse of the fallen Mandalorian. "May I ask the name of my opponent?"

"Cypher…" He said, holding out his vibrosword, significantly bigger than that of his Champion. In ancient days, it would be called a bastard sword "Cypher Vorm…"

From the beginning of the siege, until now, it had not stopped raining. Revan added another disadvantage to his side of the fight. The first one was the fact his opponent was armed from head to feet. The second one was the fact his now soaked wet tunic would significantly slow down his moves. _No matter_, he thought, as he twirled his saber around until if found its rest at its usual guard stance, horizontally at the right side of his face. _His movements will also be slower, as he risks slipping on the ground…_

Both warriors formed an invisible circle as they walked around each other in anticipation to the precise moment to attack. That moment finally came when the durasteel frame of a window fell off what remained of The Maw. Each figured the other would be distracted by the move, each attacked at precisely the same time.

The shattered window had not even hit the ground and both men were already locked in a fearsome duel. Malak's fight was marked by strength. Revan's was marked by strategic preciseness and the speed of movements. Each blow struck by the Mandalorian clan leader was not parried, but softened and turned at a different angle by but a spin of Revan's wrist. Still, the man's defensive stance was nearly unbreakable, and in such stalemate, the fight wore on.

It was not before ten minutes that the deadlock was finally broken. Both fighters leaped a good fifty feet away from each other. The Mandalorian raised his silver vibroblade above his head. Revan lowered his purple saber and held it parallel to his legs, and at the same moment, both men darted towards one another. A final blow would decide the outcome of the battle.

One shot, a million possibilities. Revan calculated every possible move by his adversary, quickly coming up with a battle strategy.

The final seconds came. Both blades met just as a lightning scorched the skies of Ank Ki'Shor, the heat emanating from them evaporated every rain drop within a ten feet area. Their momentums carried them away from each other.

The Mandalorian barely had time to register confusion as he turned around. Revan had, for the first time since the battle had begun, used the Force. His impetus, a split second before the blades met, was stopped, and the thunderous force of the opponent's blow was downcast, sliding across the length of Revan's blade as it twirled away from the power struggle. After a full spin on his hand, Revan had but to jam his amethyst blade to pierce the Clan Leader's breastplate, and end the Siege of Ank Ki'Shor.

Revan extended his hand, and the hilt of the amethyst blade flew away from the chest of the falling Mandalorian. The rain wore on, and if not for its raindrops there would be complete silence on the battlefield. A tall Mandalorian in golden armor stepped forward.

"As long as your bloodline lasts, a Vorm will guard it." He said as he placed a closed fist over his heart, an act followed by the rest of the Mandalorian army.

"As it is said, so say we all." Their voices echoed across the battlefield. The tall man approached his fallen leader, removing his black helmet. Revan suppressed a gasp as he saw the leader's true face.

The hard-faced veteran Revan half expected to see was not beneath that armor. Instead, the knight observed the face of an old man, in his early sixties, with several scars but yet a serene look about him. The exile knight remembered how fearsome the man was underneath such elaborate masquerade. The fear his enemies felt of such black armor was already half a victory for the Mandalorian commander.

Revan remembered the man's first reaction when he claimed to be the commander of the Republic army. _He? A Colonel? _It was not the first time his age had reduced his credibility, and as it was, Revan was sure it would not be the last.

Revan's thoughts were interrupted by the tall Mandalorian. The warrior handed Revan his leader's mask, showing neither regret nor sorrow as a normal human being would lead his clan.

"We have a saying…" He started, guessing Revan's line of thought "…to fight like a Mandalorian is to be a Mandalorian."

Revan only nodded, still observing the black mask before him. In the immense dark of the dead man's visor, Revan planned.

* * *

_Upper Sector Coruscant. Chancellor's office. Fall, 3.962 years before the Battle of Yavin. 23:26 Local Time._

"He has a personal army…"

"Don't overreact, Caton…" Supreme Chancellor Trajan Zabork said, filling up four glasses with Talravian red wine.

"I am not overreacting. The Vorm clan has sworn allegiance to Revan and Revan alone…"

That was Senator Caton Voys, from Malastare. The Gran diplomat had opposed Revan's ascension from the begging of the war. If it was up to him, Revan would still be a 2nd Lieutenant in an Outer Rim world, securing fuel sources.

"And what was he supposed to do?" A relatively young Senator asked, a noble Coruscant accent ever present in his voice "Just fight twenty thousand Mandalorians with a force three times smaller?"

"If that selfless act would ensure the safety of the Republic, then yes, he should." Caton responded, his hostile tone flowing through the modern sculptures that decorated the Supreme Chancellor's office.

"We need him to win this war…" The young man continued "How many planets were taken back before Revan was assigned to ground battles? None!"

"Calm down, Valorum, I think we all know Revan is winning this war for us…"

"I don't think so…" Caton said, wiggling his eyeballs "I believe the sole reason he's winning battles is because he has the only unit with hundreds of Jedi…"

"All the more reason to support him…" Valorum continued "He has the most effective unit in the entire Republic Army, and so far has an undefeated record, why not make the most of his abilities?"

"Because the Republic does not need nor wants a tyrant!" Caton said raising from his chair.

"Sit down, Caton…" Chancellor Zabork said calmly, observing the last of the three men "Yusanis… What do you think? Is he trustworthy?"

Yusanis reflected on this for a while… The man had been Zabork's lead war advisor for five years now. The Echani Weapons Master's decision would most likely be the one the Chancellor would sanction.

"He fights well, has a keen strategic mind, and undefeated record, and so far has done nothing but prove his worth to the Republic. I say he should be considered a vital tool for the Republic War effort…"

"Thank you Yusanis… That will be all." The Chancellor said, as the Echani left the room. "Ok, you heard him, we're gonna use this Jedi Knight…"

"Listen to me, Trajan, he is dangerous. We should strip him from his rank before it is too late…"

"We can't do that…" Janus Valorum said, taking a sip from his wine "A third of Coruscant is talking about him, I couldn't think of a Chancellor who would want to damage his popularity with that fraction the year before elections…"

"Go on…" The Chancellor said.

"Now, gentlemen, we can use him and still make sure he does not become this tyrant you've being so whole heartedly arguing about."

"And how would we do that, my human friend?" Caton asked.

"We support him, we please him every step of the way… We make him win this war for us… Then, on the final battle… We make sure he doesn't return…"

* * *

The holo image was but a blur, and the Senator could not see the face of the person he would speak to. The greenish light revealed one in robes, but nothing more. The person's voice denounced age, though it might very well be the bad quality of the signal more than his or her personal tone of voice "The first step of the plan worked smoothly enough…" the image said "Revan has a force of arms directly under his command. No other Republic Colonel shares the same benefit…"

"Yes…" the Senator responded, with a rather irritated tone "But it wasn't easy sending him to that particular planet. Ank Ki'Shor is nothing in the Galactic scenario, his presence there wasn't really necessary… They were a rather peaceful colony until the Vorm arrived, and no intel of ours suggest any further Mandalorian incursion was being planned in the foreseeable future… Any reasonable Republic force could surround them and starve them out… there would be no rescuing army…"

"We both know that…" the shape said "But as it stands Revan is stronger, and the Republic follows him…"

The Senator raised a suspicious brow "And that's your goal?"

"My goal…" the shape began "Is _mine_ to worry about… For now, extend to him a helping hand… Make him your ally… Make sure that alliance is public, and when the war is over and you are the partner of the Republic's dead martyr, your chancellorship will be all but assured…"

The shape's hologram disappeared before him, and the Senator smirked mischievously. All he would do is exert some political influence and the most powerful office in all Republic structure would be his. The smirk vanished from his mouth as quickly as a line of reasoning resurfaced for the third time that very day. What did this shape require? What would he or she gain from Revan's rise and fall? He did not know. But on that moment he vowed to find out…

The first rule in politics, he learned long before, is never to allow anyone to have the upper hand in matters outside the marble floor of the Senate house. He knew nothing of that strange creature he now dealt with, and _it_ knew enough about him to ruin his political career for good.

Where moments before was fixed a smirk, now remained nothing but a scowl, and the Senator felt the all-to-familiar chill of humanity forming up his spine.

He loathed that above all things…

* * *

**Author Notes:**

That's it, sorry for the long wait. I might tke a little while longer to update my fics from now on, as I begin my internship in the Brazilian Social Security offices (old people's pensions). So that should take a lot of my time, from now on.

Thank you: Alice the Raven, DX, Bald as Malak, leogrl19, bandgsecurtiyaw and Evil Shall Giggle for all of their lovely reviews.

That's the third chapter, hope you like it.

As always, Read and Review.

"**History will be kind to me, for I intend to write it…"**

**Winston Churchill.**

**Update:**** Chapter is now longer and significantly 'richer' in terms of storyline and background. Characters were added, but none that will significantly alter the story in the following chapters. Though the more I think about it, the more I realize it will be done. Expect new twists to the story.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 – Turning Points**

Revan stared at the dummy for the fifth time that very minute. The armor was everything he expected it to be, and at the same time, it was everything he dreaded in his entire life. Sluis Van was a peaceful world, with tropical climate seasoning the world's massive ocean and few small islands. Yet, in the midst of all that peace, right in the middle of all that aesthetical concern for beauty, harmony, _nature,_ stood a race of snake-like humanoids, a race that just happened to be the Galaxy's top armor designers. So when Revan wished for a costume, something to make him more than the fragile creature who inspired fear into no enemy of his, there was only one shop he could order from. Solarum Manufacturing Inc, a small, yet respectable company in the middle of the business district of Sleyher, the Sluissi capital, charged a small fortune to make him a suit of armor as thin as usual light cortosis weave, with the resistance of a tank hull.

They had complied fully, and the only complaint the Colonel had was the two-week delay in the delivery, due to a change at his original specifications for the project. He had ordered a blue suit with a mask made of silver with his serene face carved onto it. But after a good deal of discussion, argument and downright bickering between his lover Bastila and his new subject, the Mandalorian Commander, Titus Vorm, the project became something else, something that would both instill fear in the hearts of his opponents, and cause a stir on the Senate halls.

His suit was black, with touches of dark grey when the armor wasn't as resistant as the main body. On his chest and stomach, laid an ornate plate of Mandametal alloy, on itself more expensive than his official speeder, with matching gauntlets, forearm guards and greaves, covered in black leather to give the enemy the notion that these were weak-spots. The base of the armor was a set of pitch black robes, black pants and a long, hooded black cape. To finish it, a Mandalorian-inspired black, bronze and red mask, that no matter how you looked at it, would always scare the shit out of you.

It was, indisputably, the suit of a Sith Lord.

And already the Senate, the Jedi and the Media were howling at him.

He wondered just how the Coruscant Daily News had managed to get their hands on a photo of the suit, since it hadn't even left his room since the package arrived. Someone on Coruscant had a friend on his ship, who had a friend on Sleyher, who knew someone that worked on Solarum. Things were always like that… It's useless to look for the guilty man when the shit would have hit the fan the moment you wore the damned suit of armor for the first time. For now, he simply stared at the assembled dummy, basking at the thought of slaughtering hundreds of Mandalorians within the robe's constrains, and enjoying the way his stomach churned every two and a half seconds with the look of his mask.

A small smile crept up his face. The Republic now had more than a Colonel, it had a Lord…

He heard a hiss coming from the next room, and knew straight away Bastila had come to warn him of their arrival on Coruscant.

She was the only one that had the room key, and their arrival was the only thing that would bring her back to his room while the black-clad dummy still stood within its metal walls. He was right.

"Revan…" Her auburn hair was loose, falling over her face and shoulders. She had cut her Padawan braid a few days before, and since then her hair had been either clasped in a bun or as they were that very moment. The former Knight had no preference. "We've arrived… An official speeder is already at our landing platform."

"The Chancellor rests at nothing, then…" He smiled "I'll be right there, wait for me near the landing pad."

He turned around, knowing full well she wouldn't leave at his command. Few women would. "You will wear your uniform, I hope…"

He smirked "I was thinking about using the armor, you know, get the first input on its design…"

Revan risked a quick glance over his shoulders. She wasn't impressed "And get arrested and thrown into a Jedi cell in the process? I thought you'd be smarter than that, 'winning' the war and all…"

"Please, my love…" He quickly stripped off his cotton shirt and unbuckled his pants. He turned around just as he kicked away his shoes. His full smile only made her fume with even greater passion "I only wish they'd do that. Two weeks without me on the Outer Rim, and they'd be begging for my release and holding torches and pitchforks in front of the Jedi Temple…"

"Torches and pitchforks?"

"You know what I mean…" the military uniform was complex, and for a moment Revan said nothing to his companion. His pants could not be even slightly wrinkled and his cuffs, tie, and the black overcoat with the two silver gemstones signaling his rank, had to be the face of perfection. When he was finally satisfied with his look he turned back to face Bastila "And?"

"Well enough…" she feigned indifference, but in her eyes glowed the same spark that glowed within the eyes of every woman or man, seeing his/her partner demonstrate its qualities to the world: pride, linked with a touch of possessiveness that only those completely separated from the Jedi Order could feel. "And might I ask who it is you're taking to this meeting?"

Revan eyed her suspiciously, but Bastila could only smirk "Normally, when you want me to come along you're asking me if I'm ready before you even start to dress up…"

The former Knight laughed wholeheartedly "I do that, don't I?"

"You certainly do…" she continued to stare at him, with that bland look of disinterest she had perfected throughout the years "But what you normally _don't do_ is answer my questions…"

"Ah, right…" brushed his teeth, taking twice the usual time, all under the scrutiny of his lover. He knew she wouldn't drop the point "Well… Lucius, and the Mandalorian…"

Her arms, until then crossed before her chest, now arched to allow her hands to rest on her round hips. Revan knew: she was pissed. "You're taking that Mandalorian to the Chancellor's chambers?!"

"This is more than a soldier reporting to higher authorities after mission accomplished Bastila: this is politics." He checked his teeth, his breath, spread some perfume over some strategic locations, then adjusted his black cap until his hair was mostly under control "I need a show of strength. I can't see a better way to do that than to bring along a Mandalorian and a hardened war veteran."

"So I don't look strong enough, is that it?"

He sighed "Your skin is a shade between porcelain white and creamy pink, your eyes are light blue and your lips…" he stopped, looking at her seriously for the first time "I know what you're doing. You're not getting me into a word game which will take me straight into your palm at the end of the conversation. I'm afraid this time I can't take you Bastila, and _that_ is my final word."

She remained angry, and all Revan could do was ignore her the best he could. He stopped at the door, opening it and waiting for his lover to leave the room first. He took one final glance at the dummy, and his infernal armor. He would now walk into a den of evil, a shark tank, a place he never even dreamed of being as a child: he would enter the Senate halls, walk straight into the Chancellor's office and hope his plans work as well as they did within his mind.

Revan knew that somehow the five minutes of talk between Bastila and him had prepared him more than the countless hours staring at his new face, the black and red mask of infallibility that would crush Mandalorian might under the weight of his iron fist. The threats of Coruscant were perhaps even more dangerous, though subtle. On the field you knew that a dagger was coming from either the front or back. There was a weird sort of certainty on that statement, and with it, comfort. On Coruscant, you never knew the weapon of choice, or if you were being attacked at all. Poisonous words, as harmful as any blade, were uttered with a smile, and every friend you had would only be by your side as long as you remained within his dagger's reach.

The best preparation to these challenges would not be the red mask of concrete threat, but the deep blue eyes of subtle suggestion.

* * *

"Not a word from either of you until told otherwise…" Revan switched his focus from Lucius to the armor-clad Mandalorian "Both of you are warnings, not threats. You're here to show strength, not aggression. Are we clear?"

A silent nod was all he got from the tall soldier. He didn't expect more than that. The elevator doors opened, and the smooth polished marble that greeted him only confirmed his suspicions: He was on a different world. Outside the rain fell heavily, and the darkness of the clouds was alternated by the reflected light of the thousands of luminous signs. Inside, serenity mixed with authority. On the hallway, darkened busts of Chancellors past stared in guarding stillness. Behind them, hung dozens of colorful cloths with the crests of all the noble families to ever grace the office of leader of the Galactic Republic. The gold-embroidered red carpet led all the way to a massive oaken doorway, with a small, simple table by its side. A cheerful receptionist greeted them with a smile that should make a man of his age redden and become suddenly flustered. Revan could only force a sad smile, not at her greeting, but at the way she paled at the sight of the massive Mandalorian.

"Good evening…" he said, his voice denoting an age far superior to his own. It was the voice of the tired veteran "Colonel Revan Stormrider, to see the Chancellor…"

From the look she gave him he knew she had been given a photo of his, probably of every one booked to see the Chancellor on any given day, and was not the least surprised of his youthful looks. But what he could tell, is that she fully understood that any attempt to overwhelm him with the opulence of the chambers before him would be fruitless. Wealth would always be the first attempt humans tried when imposing their superiority over their peers. Revan picked the second: brute force, and the low grunt coming from Vorm's throat made the desk clerk drop a small datapad loudly on the floor. She mumbled many incoherent apologies, but the former Knight no longer paid her heed. The oaken doors creaked open, and the slightly overweight form of Chancellor Trajan Zabork, hurried out from within the adjacent chamber. His clothes were tightly fit, unnatural to a man a few pounds above his ideal weight, and colored in bright purple and green, the shades of his family crest, the seagull above the planet, adorning also the last hanging cloth, above the doorway, as the 'reigning' Chancellor's mark. His face was round, and the baldness atop his head, in contrast with the length of his white hair, made his features the perfect image of the planet he so firmly ruled over.

"Colonel Revan…" there was probably a small screen with the image of the reception on his desk, and Zabork saw the poor clerk's problems. "A pleasure to finally meet you! A year without meeting the brightest Officer on our military is too long for a Chancellor to bear!"

Revan shook his hand "The pleasure's all mine, sir, though you take me for something I am not. The army is filled with competent Officers."

"Ah, drop that talk…" he waved away Revan's objections "Come in, there are some Senators dying to meet you…"

The Knight's eyes dilated slightly, a sign he hoped escaped unnoticed by the Chancellor. With more than one person to negotiate with, he might just find himself cornered by the all-too-familiar 'voice of reason': a group of experienced politicians all agreeing on a matter, dissuading the young and upcoming Colonel of a plan he so vehemently insisted on. He wouldn't be made a puppet so easily, and he knew they were fully aware of that. He gave his subordinates a silent nod, and they waited, patiently, by the clerk's desk, until the meeting was over or Revan ordered them otherwise.

The Chancellor's room was as lavishly decorated as the entrance hall, with statues and paintings depicting the golden days of the Old Republic, the time when all was new. A scale model of the first hyperdrive hung from the entrance ceiling, the single most important invention in the history of the known Galaxy.

"I have to say…" the Chancellor started. From the tone of voice Revan already knew only malice could follow those words "…that is quite an entourage you carry… I cannot say I've ever seen a _Mandalorian_ walk the Senate halls."

The former Knight smirked "Let us hope this is the last you see of them…"

Zabork laughed out loud, but Revan's smiled had vanished. Before him stood three men: two politicians and a legend. He was ready for the politicians, but the last man… "By the Force, you're Lord Yusanis…" The former knight took a slight bow before the massive man shook his hand, nearly breaking a couple of bones in the process "The legend of the Echani Uprisings, this is most unexpected, sir…"

"Bah, that was nothing compared to what you're up against." The man was in his late forties, his silvery hair gradually receding further away from his forehead, and tied up in a pony tail. His bright grey eyes sparkled with every word uttered. His build was that of a common man, though, from the handshake, Revan knew his looks were deceiving. What this man was doing in the background of the conflict instead of leading troops from the front Revan had no clue, but he made a mental note that Yusanis was a man he should make an effort to turn to his side.

The second man to be introduced required no introduction. The three eyes of the Gran diplomat narrowed almost instantly at the Revan's uncompromising smile. He was, from the perspective of a human man, a Gran, and everything expected of a Gran: Stocky, if not overweight; ancient-looking, and as unfriendly as a Rancor "Senator Voys, from Malastare… A pleasure to finally meet you…"

"And you, Revan…" the man's scarce voice responded, hiding not an ounce of contempt from its tone "And you…"

The last man was someone Revan had only heard of, and most opinions were favorable. It was a young man, in his early thirties, with gleaming green eyes and black hair slowly being consumed by patches of grey at the sides of his head. This was Janus Valorum, and every advice he had been given urged him to support this man in the next general elections, a year and a half away. "A pleasure to meet you, sir…"

"The pleasure's all mine, Colonel…" the greetings were formal, and the young Knight knew his next words would determine how the meeting would continue. Smooth words would lead to countless hours of dancing around the true purpose, if one would be reached at all. Direct words might cause something of a stir in their so far friendly relationship, and divide the environment between those on his favor, Valorum and Yusanis, and those against him, Voys and the Chancellor. He had no illusions, none were fully supporting him, so dancing around in search of sides would be folly. He needed the directness of an Officer, not the subtlety of a politician. "Now, I would like to know why I've been summed here…"

There was a generous sense of awkwardness, and Revan knew he had touched a nerve. They weren't used to straight talking, and they certainly weren't expecting it, not from a former Jedi.

"We'd like to congratulate you for your achievements on the Outer Rim…" the Chancellor began "And we are more than pleased to inform you that from this day forth you shall be a Brigadier General…"

He smirked. Military ranks meant as much to Jedi as Jedi ranks meant to politicians. Still, he allowed the subject to linger on "And I assume my subordinates will have the same benefit… And, that my numbers will be increased…"

"Of course, of course…" the Chancellor placed his left hand on his back, leading him to the balcony. Before him, the bright lights of Coruscant gleamed in its full glory "Your paycheck will nearly double!"

Revan could not contain a chuckle. Double paycheck… Just the money he needed to buy all those body-bags "That's not what I meant, sir. My army, I need a decent army…"

The Chancellor frowned, but behind him, Yusanis was knowingly smirking "One _would_ call thirty thousand souls a decent army…"

"Alexander had more Phalangites on Gaugamela than I have troops spread across an Outer Rim sector… Not to mention that of those troops, two thirds are Mandalorian defectors…"

Caton scoffed "And who do we have to blame for that?"

"Perhaps I am to blame, Senator…" Revan's voice was firm, yet without a hint of emotion "But perhaps I am also to blame that the Mandalorian bloodbath, the scorching of dozens of Outer Rim worlds, is now but a memory. Perhaps I am also to blame that the last Mandalorian large scale victory happened almost a year ago. Perhaps I am to blame that I could do what none of your Generals could…"

"You impudent…"

"Enough…" the Chancellor raised his hand, silencing the Senator "What, exactly, do you want?"

The former Knight pretended to ponder the question for a few brief moments, staring blandly into the Coruscant night. The answer, though, came out rather quickly "This new army of yours, of enlisted and conscripts from the Outer Rim…"

"That's a million and a half troops!" Senator Voys spoke up once more, and this time no hand gesture from the Chancellor could silence him "I'd eat one of my eyes before I see you get your hands on that many men!"

"That is enough from you, Caton!" For all his faults, one could not match the aura of authority Zabork had over his subjects. Voys was silent and with a nod he continued "If I give you that many troops, I need your pledge to end this war before the next general elections…"

Revan smiled "You have it…"

"Then you have your army and my full support…" He extended his hand towards the doorway, and Revan knew the meeting was over. He nodded to each of those present, and left without uttering another word, carrying both of his chaperones with him, much to the relief of the young receptionist.

Yusanis mumbled some apologies and hurried out of the room as well, claiming to want to discuss battle strategies. _Once a soldier, always a soldier_… the Chancellor thought.

"Are you out of your mind?" the Gran Senator shouted. Zabork wasn't surprised by his manners, he expected this outcry "You give him an army of that size, it's like you're inviting him into our doorsteps as a new tyrant! What were you thinking?"

"He _was _thinking, Caton…" Valorum said, as he poured himself a glass of brandy "Unlike you, I'm afraid…"

"What our insolent friend means…" the Chancellor began, cutting off any complaints from the Gran "Is that for now we should play his game… Let him think we're fully by his side. Even better, let him think it's on our best interest to see him covered in glory a year and a half from now. It'll keep his guard down…"

"I'll make sure I have a few men 'enlisting' on this new army…" Valorum said, taking a sip of his drink "If Revan gets new ideas about sovereignty and power, they'll teach him a lesson in loyalties…"

"I hope you're right…" Caton said, sighing. He turned to leave "But if there's one thing you can say about loyalties, is that they have the tendency to change…"

* * *

"I hear we have a new Jedi on our ranks…" Revan said, as he entered the conference room on the Scythe, shaking a small bottle of water on his hand "Who is it?"

"You'll see it soon enough…" Malak said, a twisted grin on his face "Bastila's keeping her company…"

"Please tell me, Malak, why I am still surprised that when it is you that carries the news there's always a woman involved…"

"What can I say?" he smirked "I've got a touch for these things…"

"Anyway, you'll be pleased to know we've got ourselves the new army they're making…"

"Now we're talking!" Malak yelled as Lucius and Titus took their seats next to the newly promoted General. "Now we may actually change something instead of just keeping the casualty rate to a minimum…"

"That's not what I'm worried about…" Revan removed his overcoat and threw it at the rack near the doorway. He poured the content of the water bottle on a small glass, then removed two tiny pills from his shirt pocket. "Fuck, my head hurts like hell…"

He took the pills and rubbed his forehead, as his bald friend patiently waited for him to finish his train of thought "Arrg… What troubles me is that I don't think I've ever seen Senators do anything without personal gain…"

"Oh, come on, surely the Chancellor benefits from our victory… From what I've heard it's the only thing that could actually get him reelected."

"Perhaps, Malak…" Revan said, crossing his arms and leaning back on the leather chair "But what Voys and Valorum have to gain, that still baffles me…"

"They can be a part of the government that took out the Mandalorians…"

"The key word in 'personal gain' isn't really _gain_, as much as it is _personal…_ The glory would be either ours or Zabork's… No, these two have a hidden agenda somewhere in between our goals…"

"What do you care, since they've just provided us with these 'tools' to achieve _our_ goals?"

Revan stared at his friend, taking his time "It must be really nice, Malak, to live in this little world of yours…"

"It is… No political intrigues or conflicting interests… Just everyone fighting for what's _right_ against the forces of what's _wrong_…"

Revan chuckled at the irony "Senators would rather be rich under Mandalorian rule than poor under a free Republic… No, there's something hidden there, and I need to find out."

"Not now, you can't…" Malak got up from his chair "You have too much work right now to even think about politics… If we're really getting this army that means a batch of fresh recruits, untrained and as likely to be killed as a normal civilian…"

"You're right, of course…" Revan said, sighing "Force knows how long that's gonna take…"

"I think I know just the place to take them, don't you worry about that…" Malak smiled and left the room. Lucius left the very next moment, off to start filling out the forms required to acquire a new battleship, as a frigate was no longer fit for a Brigadier General. Revan and the Vorm Clan leader remained alone in the room.

"Titus, I have a favor to ask of you…"

"Say it and it is yours, sir…" the tall man's voice echoed within the constraints of his metallic helmet.

"You told me you had some soldiers in need of extra training… Men unfit to be first line troopers."

"They're more than able scouts, sir, but of men that are weak and quick to run you already have your fair share… No, leave these Mandalorians to me, and I'll make them worthy Vorm infantrymen…"

"That's the thing…" He smiled "This threat from within the Senate halls can be potentially bigger than that faced by infantrymen. The Mandalorian army is, and since the dawn of time has been, a hammer, striking with brute force and efficiency. I need something different…"

The Mandalorian was beginning to understand "You speak of assassins, my lord…"

Revan pondered the issue for a moment, but then admitted it with a nod "I am… If the time comes and between us and our objectives stands the Chancellor and the Republic Senate, we cannot turn the hammer in their direction. It must be the subtle knife in the dark…"

"So you want me to turn them from hammers into daggers…"

Revan smiled at the name "_The Daggers_ suits just fine… Yes, turn them into fast, mobile and deadly special operatives… Elite commandos under my direct orders…"

The tall man got up, clenching his fist over his chest "It shall be as you order, sir…"

He left, and Revan was alone in the room, left to ponder the day's happenings. He had gained an army capable of actually defeating the Mandalorians, but in doing so opened up a whole new array of threats turned straight at him. Still, he thought, it was a good day.

With that thought in mind, he headed off to his room, wondering just who the new Jedi was.

* * *

Bastila sat nervously at an arranged pillow within her new Master's chambers. It had been twenty minutes before, that Revan entered his room to find his old childhood Master, the Jedi elder Kreia, standing before a very uncomfortable former Padawan. Revan had greeted the old woman, yet the two only exchanged but a few words. When Revan spoke of Bastila's Battle Meditation, the conversation was over, and the uncomfortable Padawan became the quickly exiting Padawan. Revan's protests fell on deaf ears, and the elder led Bastila towards her new accommodations, where she would train her in the ways of the Force, in her words: _without the chains they so thoroughly clasped at your feet._

Since then, they had meditated, in silence, on the candlelit room. She was supposed to relax, but the more time she spent with Kreia, the more Bastila found herself apprehensive, perhaps even afraid of the elder. When Kreia at last spoke up, her weak, cracked voice brought both relief and dread to the young woman "Relax, child, for this is but a talk, a mean to get some important notions into your head…"

"Notions? Which notions?"

The old woman scoffed "Firstly, that you are somehow special to be able to master a technique like Battle Meditation…"

"But…"

"Tell me, Bastila, what _is_ Battle Meditation?"

"Well…" she stuttered. Being a Jedi, she could _feel_ what it was, but could never fully understand its process "It is touching the heart of every soldier within a given radius, making them fight better while making the enemy worsen…"

"You are mistaken, but that is to be expected, having only Vrook and Vandar as your Masters…" she said, her voice filled with contempt "First and foremost: a heart is but a blood-pump. Let no one tell you otherwise. Our technology is far too advanced for us to remain attached to romanticized notions of our own physiology…"

"Battle Meditation…" she continued "… is quite possibly one of the easiest techniques one could learn within the Order. It can be said that its only requirements is a strong connection with the Force…"

"H-how…"

"When you use this technique, you are reaching out not towards their _hearts, _but towards their thoughts… We all know every Jedi is capable of that…"

"But that would mean there would be thousands of practitioners…"

Kreia's mouth twisted into something resembling a smile "Yes, but Battle Meditation requires more than practitioners: it requires _masters_…"

"With the amount of people within a battle, I can imagine…"

"That has nothing to do with it…" she interrupted "You're close to Revan, you need not hide that from me. It is pleasing to see him no longer chained to the Code so he can concentrate his efforts on different tasks. But being close to him, you can feel his echoes within the Force… Revan is _power,_ unchained, indomitable… He would be more than capable to use Battle Meditation on this whole new army you are taking over."

"But then what _is_ Battle Meditation?"

"I have just answered you, child…" Kreia's tone portrayed no emotion, but Bastila knew there was a tad of impatience at her question "When one uses Battle Meditation, one connects with the thousands, millions if need be, and remove all their thoughts, everything that could distract them: their fears, their memories of their families… The soldier focuses only on what it should: taking the life of those in front of him."

"And the enemy? Do you place those fears on the enemy's mind?"

"_That…"_ she began "… would take a greater Force user than any alive today. No you do not touch the enemy's mind… They become weaker and are more prone to making mistakes simply because they see a perfectly organized enemy before them, countering their every move and fighting with the efficiency of a machine."

"Then, if it's _that_ easy… How come there's but few known Battle Meditation users in Jedi history?"

"The answer is as simple as it is ancient: control…"

"Control?"

"What the Council fear to lose… The Jedi Code uses the same formula as many ancient religions in Galactic history: it denies nature. Tell me, Bastila: what is the first line of the Jedi Code?"

"_There is no Emotion…"_

"And you are in love with Revan…"

"I'm no longer in the Order…"

"Before that, when you were but a youngling, a child, you laughed, you cried, you were happy, sad, depressed, perhaps even… angry?"

"Yes, of course…"

"And what are those?"

"Emotions…" she answered, though it sounded a lot like a question itself.

"Indeed, by forbidding natural emotions, the Jedi establish a permanent stranglehold on a person's life. When only the light is offered as a path, and when the only path to light is denying everything that makes you human, they create two certainties: one, that the code will be breached, hundreds of times, the very least, by every single member of the order; and two, that _they_ possess the only means of redemption, that only _they_ know the true purpose and path you must walk. It is one of the oldest _tricks_ in the universe, when ancient Egyptians established that perils existed on the otherworld, and only that the Book of the Dead could guide you safely into the afterlife, they kept the sales of the book always on the rise, and the population in constant fear of not being able to live forever. When it is _known_ that the population will live in darkness for following their own ways, the weak, the feeble, will always bend their own will, their own might, to accommodate to something safer."

"And _how_ does my Battle Meditation fit into that bill?"

"It is a pretty powerful gift, is it not, to turn armies into unbreakable fighting machines? Can you imagine every other Jedi being able to do that? Soon, there would be those that would break away from the Order, to sell their trade elsewhere… With them, the secrets of the Jedi power would be spread between many different schools, guilds… By keeping this technique's practitioners to a minimum, they can monopolize the teachings."

"You will notice…" she continued "That Masters of Battle Meditation are often those considered closer to the so-called 'Grey Jedi'… Those not afraid to see the battles for what they are: not constant fights between light and dark, but constant fights for conflicting interests. The only other living practitioner, apart from you, is Master Kavar… He recently captured the spotlights on the holonet. Why?"

"He was the only other Jedi apart from Revan to defend a call to arms…" she remembered the news clearly "But he would not follow him into such drastic measures as to secede from the Council altogether."

"Kavar is fearless!" the old woman spoke with renewed passion "Most Jedi, when before the prospect of handling a soldier's mind to input nothing but the thought of death and slaughter, stutter, and are unable to fully dominate the technique. They are caught between perfecting their skills and going against the Jedi Code, which preaches peace and liberty while enforcing a different kind of slavery. Tell me, Bastila: what did the old Masters call you back in Dantooine?"

"Headstrong…" she answered without the need to think. Those memories were still fresh on her mind "Stubborn…"

"Fearless!" Kreia's white eyes glowed "You did not accept everything that was taught as absolute truths… You discerned the teachings from the idiocies! And because of that, you were constantly chided. Your undeniable potential was matched only by their staunch determination to tell you how much you were unfit. They say you are nothing, you start believing them… In the end, you become but another pawn in their hands…"

Bastila's head was pounding. Her whole world had just been blown away. All ideals she believed to be sacred truths were exposed as lies and deception. The suffering of her youth, the repression of her teenage years, all for the sake of control… Hatred boiled up inside of her. When the image of Master Vrook appeared within her mind, she felt not the embarrassment of her farewell, but the hate and constant humiliations she suffered. He was but an old man, a weak, pathetic man with only his title to maintain his stranglehold over thousands of other Jedi. Right there, before the white-eyed Master, Bastila made a pledge: she would see the end of the Code, she would be there to witness the fall of old conceptions and the birth of a new Golden Era, free of the chains that bounded those with any will, with any power. Her ocean blue eyes seemed to gleam as she finally turned her attention back to the old woman "What now?"

Kreia smiled "I can see my words have affected you. Good… It is but a first step. For now you must rest, as tomorrow a long day awaits you…"

"Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow, child, we start undoing all the harm the Council's foolishness has done to you…"

* * *

The queue was immense, and the young man had spent the past hour accompanying his friends. There were four of them, in total, all young men from the same sad excuse for a mining colony, bred to do but one thing in life: to follow their parents on the power plant, on the assembly lines, on the gathering vehicles. Then came the Mandalorian invasion, and the annihilation of close to twenty gas mines within their vicinity. The miners fled to the same destination all homeless Outer Rim exiles flee: the planet-wide city of Taris.

What could Taris offer four young men, but a lifetime of hard work, contempt and segregation? With luck, their suffering would be cut short by the infection that spread across the Undercity, turning men into creatures so abominable he was too afraid to even think of their names. No, to the men of Taris, to those unfortunate enough to have been born without a credit to their names, only one alternative presented itself: the War, and the short life of an infantrymen. You would fight and most likely die, but your family would be looked after for many years after your passing.

To him, it was a win-win situation.

And now it was his turn, and he was too afraid to say a single word.

"Fill out these forms, please…" a woman had told him, and he did. The form was but a datapad filled with key questions any young soldier should know: blood type, living relatives, previous illnesses… Yet still he hesitated, and the woman realized it "Look, there's nothing for you to worry about, at least not now. You'll be part of a new army, that'll need to be trained from scratch. It'll be months, perhaps more than a year before you're able to head out to the front. Besides, I know General Koth, he's cautious, clearly not one to jeopardize the lives of his men…"

The words were reassuring, but not enough. On a battlefield, caution and cowardice often mix together, and he'd be frozen in hell before he'd allow his friends to die over the indecision of an officer. He stopped filling out the form, and just as he was about to abandon the idea, just as he was about to go back to his job as cleaner of a few house blocks on the Upper City, the image appeared.

All eyes were turned to a central pillar on the recruitment office, where moments earlier the weather report for the local news was aired on the holonet. The weather was replaced by static, before the appearance of the robed figure, the imposing, menacing, even, figure that had appeared at every news bulletin on the holonet for the past week: Revan Stormrider, the Jedi Commander.

"Good evening…" his voice boomed out of the many speakers on the room, and the young man guessed this image was being aired on every channel of the holonet. The mask hid his features completely, but there was no mistake. The pictures of his new armor had been the talk of the past few weeks "My name is Revan Atrius Stormrider, newly appointed Brigadier General and, most importantly, by personal appointment from the Supreme Chancellor himself: Commander of the Third Army of the Republic."

Screams both of approval and disbelief echoed across the recruitment office. Some were eager to be led by the most promising Officer in the Republic Military, others were terrified that they would most likely see a lot more action than under Koth, and a lot sooner.

"With such, I am cutting short the enlistment period. All those willing to fight to defend the lives of those they love, willing to fight to safeguard their homes and preserve their freedom, will have the next seventy two hours to enlist on the Republic Navy, Army or Air Force. With our numbers ready, we will immediately travel to our new Outer Rim planetary training facility, on the Drakkonis System. In four week's time, we leave towards the front. You will be _my _army, Revan's chosen few, to unleash the full degree of the Republic's might on the Mandalorian scourge. Those under me will be the elite, those selected to walk hand-in-hand with death, and to triumph time and time again. I expect you do die for the man next to you, and in return you can expect the same from me. Today, a new era dawns… Let all Mandalorians know that from this day forth, _the Republic shall fight back_."

His image dimmed then faded, leaving a heavy silence weighting upon the shoulders of all those in the room. The young man saw the clerk's hand extending towards him, her eyes apologetic, in certainty that he would walk away from Army life.

He resumed his task of filling out the form, much to the surprise of the woman before him. On her face, he could see the image of disbelief, but the young man no longer cared. _This_ was a man worth following, _this_ was a cause worth dying for… Despite the imposing looks, Revan reached out to every soldier in the Republic with the expertise no Senator could even come close to conjuring up. When he said he would die for them, the soldiers believed him, for so far he had done just that, risking his life time and time again to ensure that every peril suffered by those under him would be suffered by himself and his peers.

The form was filled, and his mind made up, only his signature remained blank. With the ion marker, he signed his name on the datapad:

"_ATTON RAND"_

_

* * *

  
_

**Author's Notes:**_Rewritten Chapter: __I did the whole thing over again, since I thought the original was one of my poorest chapters. With this chapter we see the first change in plot: the inclusion of Atton Rand as a main character. With him, I will hopefully be able to get a soldier's view of the occurrences of Dxun and many other scenarios. Now that this is done, I hope to speed things up, but not for another two weeks, as there's another set of tests going on at my University._

_Thanks for the read,_

**BSL**


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Knights of The Old Republic and all of its characters belong to LucasArts, Bioware and Obsidian

**Chapter 5 – Mastery**

_Outer Rim world of Drakkonis V. Revan's personal military Stronghold. Planet's winter, 3.962 years before the Battle of Yavin. 16:27 local time Two months after events mentioned in previous chapter._

It was dusk at the ice world of Drakkonis V. The freezing wind howled as it echoed across the steel halls of the Republic Stronghold, the 'Teutonic's Blade'. It was an incredibly large structure, set at the face of Mount Teuton, therefore the name. It was designed not for beauty, but for heat preservation. The kilometer high fort was itself a wide tower, that followed decreasingly broad layers that converted in a top floor of a few hundred square meters, in which Revan's personal chambers and war council were located.

The two hundred and thirty men of his new thirteenth army were brought to the frozen planet for a crash-course in Mandalorian discipline and Revan's tactics. Every thirty seven hours day was spent in making these raw recruits into the most fearsome unit the Galaxy's ever seen.

An artillery shell exploded a few miles away from a robed figure, clad in dark cortosis armor. The evening exercises had already begun and Brigadier General Revan Stormrider coordinated the War drill personally. An inspiring figure, the General was now the key figure in the entire Republic armed forces. In the past months, he had repelled a Mandalorian invasion of the Selonian sector, taking advantage of the enemy's retreat to occupy three strategic systems in the Outer Rim, including Drakkonis.

"How are we doing?" A completely covered man asked the General. If not for the man's voice it would be simply impossible to recognize him.

"We're handling it, Malak… They're alright, but still have a lot of growing up to do…"

"That coming from a twenty year old knight…"

"I'm twenty one next month, but I've seen enough of this war to be considered a veteran…"

"How are the new Mechs working?"

The newly promoted Colonel Malak observed the huge mechanical beasts. The Centaur was a biped Walker, five meters high, with three huge artillery cannons on each arm. Three soldiers manned the three tons monster, of which Revan received a full shipment, or two hundred units.

The second armored vehicle was the Talos, a five meters tall humanoid titanium suit fitted for personal use in combat, armed with a 45 mm old fashioned machine gun, able to penetrate any armor the Mandalorians could throw at them. The General had received a thousand of those.

The third one, the Cerberus, was a modification of the previously mentioned suit, with the slight variation of being equipped with a flame-thrower and a three meters long permacrete-grenade launcher. It was meant to be brought up to the field for 'peacemaking' objectives, removing all unwanted resistance.

Add that to a whole new shipment of improved Mammoth tanks, twenty two V-pattern fighter squadrons, fifteen Y-shaped bomber ones, ten Destroyers, five Battlecruisers to be used as Capital ships, and over thirty seven Victory class frigates, 'Revan's thirteenth' (the Thirteenth army's nickname) was, right now the most devastating force in the entire known universe.

"They're also alright…" The General responded, interrupting Malak's line of thoughts. "Only slight problems due to the cold here, but they should be ready to bellow zero temperatures by the end of this month…"

"Then I'm glad where we're going isn't bellow zero…"

"Where we're going?" The young knight asked, turning towards his friend, his Mandalorian-like mask staring with darkened eyes the bald man's hidden face.

"We've got news from the front… The enemy's crossed the southern borders of the Finnan sector. They've landed on Peleus Prime…"

"No strategic position, temperate climate as well as open fields; which makes it perfect for our troops… I don't see a reason they'd go there."

"It seems that we're in luck. Intelligence reports claim a new Mandalore is wearing the silver helm of the warrior race, from the Ordo clan, apparently. All reports describe him as headstrong and proud, we have a window here… I say we use it."

"We will, Malak… But I'm afraid you won't be in the front when that happens."

"What? Why not?"

"Because this might be a trap. Hell, I'm sure this is a trap!" He said, leading the bald man back to the stronghold. "But one I must fall into to test the strength of this army."

"The only nearby key position is the Japrael system." The knight continued "How many men do they have in Peleus Prime?"

"About seventy thousand, give or take."

"That's not nearly enough to establish a beachhead, which is the only thing the Finnan system is perhaps fit for… No…" The knight said, smiling beneath his mask "This is a trap. I'll take the top men of the Thirteenth, about fifty thousand, the rest you take to any of the systems that border Japrael, if the enemy strikes, you'll be aware."

"I am to repel them all?" Malak said, suspecting a bigger picture from his long term friend.

"We'll see what we do when they attack. It will all depend on their numbers, but a hundred and fifty thousand men should be enough to get you by… Go indoors, and tell Lucius to oversee the army's supply, tell them I need them all set first thing in the morning. You'll take Serra and Master Kreia, along with two thirds of the Jedi we have. I'll take Bastila, Lucius, Titus and HK."

"Consider it done… How is Bastila's training going on?" The tall man asked, resuming the friendly tone of the conversation. "I heard Kreia is being pretty tough on her…"

"As she is to everyone…" The general said, smirking "But I'm really concerned with her influence over Bastila… I mean, there is no doubt Bastila has evolved as a fighter and as a Jedi. She is almost mastering Battle Meditation, but her technique is not what I'm worried about…"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean Kreia is… being Kreia. Bastila always knew what the Council was all about, but Kreia's influence is beginning to take its toll… She's still the same as always, but I can sense there is something dark about her lately… Something I've only seen once…"

"Kreia…" Malak complemented. "She always had this dark aura around her… As an infinite grudge that is only waiting for a reason to explode…"

"Bastila's is slightly different… She has the same bitterness but it seems like she's keeping other people's burdens, or something… My burden…"

"I know the feeling… You think she worries too much about you?"

"Yeah…"

"Afraid to loose you, perhaps…"

"Exactly…"

"Take a moment or two to talk to her."

"It'll have to wait. After we get back from this attack, I'll take a small leave somewhere quiet… A small break of the war's stress…"

"I can handle things for a week or so, no problem…"

"Thanks, Malak…"

"Anytime…" The tall man said, placing his hand on his friend's shoulder "Well, I still need to get the supplies ready, so… I'll see you in a few days."

"You will… Remember don't move an inch without my permission, and we should be able to turn this war in our favor…"

Malak nodded and left. In a few days, they'd either gain the upper hand or doom the entire Republic.

* * *

"**Alea iacta est"**

"**The die is cast…"**

**- Gaius Julius Caesar

* * *

**

_Outer Rim World of Peleus Prime. Plains of Pella, planet's southern hemisphere. 3.962 years before the Battle of Yavin. Planet's spring. 05:40 local time._

The Mandalorians' massive battle line filled the horizon. The ginger glow of the planet's sunrise glistened across the thousands of armored soldiers. A huge flat pathway followed through dozens of miles before the borders of the Tarpeian woods, the planet's biggest forest and entrenchment point for the Republic's expeditionary force.

Brigadier General Revan Stormrider looked at the sight before him. A frown remained plastered across his unmasked face.

"Over a hundred thousand…" He whispered to himself. "Seventy thousand Mandalorians and thirty eight thousand battle-droids…"

"We are awaiting your orders, sir…" the middle aged Colonel behind him said. "All batteries are loaded and aimed. One word from you, sir, and that line becomes cannon fodder."

"Are the scouts in place?"

"Yes, sir. Three hundred men spread over the entire length of these woods. If someone tries to flank us or hit us in the back, we'll have time to prepare."

"Camouflage?"

"All Mechs and soldiers have the special screen above them."

"Snipers?"

"All across the perimeter and instructed to take out the officers first, as you requested."

"Airborne?"

"We've built an improvised landing strip in the middle of the woods, with three fighter squadrons and a bomber one. Any mechs in sight, sir?"

"About a hundred quadruped walkers, armed with double cannons at the front. A hundred or so AA vehicles and biped personal walkers equipped with MG-42 repeating blasters…three thousand of those. The battle-droids are equipped with grenade-launchers, flame-throwers and their own MG-42s…"

"A tough nut to crack, sir?"

"But breakable nonetheless, Lucius…"

"Do you think they see us, General?"

"Not only do they see us…" Revan said, assessing the situation "…but they intend to flank us."

"What makes you think that, sir?"

"The heavy troops, the armored droids, are at the forward-center, along with the walkers and AA tanks. The medium and light infantry are at the sides…"

"But wouldn't that mean a frontal assault, sir?"

"At first… But the battle-droids will most likely stop advancing a few hundred meters from the first line of the entrenchment. They'll shell us with everything they have, as their infantry advances at our sides."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because that's what I'd do…"

"What are your orders, sir?"

"Order all Talos and Cerberus suits to move to the center front line. I want it to rain ion grenades at those battle-droids. Light infantry and Jedi to the sides. Mammoth and Centaurs at the rear."

"At the rear, sir? With all that firepower they could be decisive at the front!"

"With their long range they will be decisive at the rear. And there is still a chance I am wrong, and they are throwing everything they got on us…"

"I want the Centaurs and Mammoths to focus their fire at the AA tanks." The young man continued "Once they're all taken out order an air-strike to clean out the field… It will be a bloody day…"

"One to be remembered…" The Colonel said, reassuring his General.

"Let's hope so, Lucius… Let's hope so…"

* * *

**"Pretend inferiority and encourage his arrogance."**

**- Sun Tzu – The Art of War

* * *

**

_Outer Rim World of Peleus Prime. Plains of Pella, planet's southern hemisphere. 3.962 years before the Battle of Yavin. Planet's spring. 06:49 local time._

The first shell hit the Republic center precisely at 06:15 local time. It rained fire at the entrenchment for a good minute before the first Ion grenade came out of one of the multiple cannons a Centaur has. The mechanical beasts dueled from a mile away, as the heavy troopers of the Republic infantry threw everything they had at the iron creatures that marched slowly in their direction.

Initially, it had all gone as Revan predicted. The battle-droids halted their advance a few hundred meters away from the main line of the Republic military, as their edges ran towards the apparently weak flanks.

The young General personally led the defense of the left flank of his army. It was not long before the Mandalorian commander realized his strategy was being used against him. He compensated his flaw by ordering his center to move forward against the wavering Republic midpoint.

Realizing his foe was not as headstrong as his predecessors, the young knight ordered his heavy Mechs forward, reinforcing the heart of the Republic lines.

Now, both men's battle strategy had been completely forgotten and an 'every man for himself' battle had commenced. The smell of burnt flesh filled the nostrils of every combatant, which surprisingly raised the fighting spirit of the Republic's soldiers. They would fight, or they would die.

Another head fell before the crimson blade of the Republic General. Of the fifteen thousand men that formed the entrenchment's left flank, Revan was the only one that had not retreated an inch since the battle began.

He was now deep into the enemy's lines, trying his best to destroy the AA tanks spread out across the field. Only a very intimidating rust-colored droid stood besides the General. HK-47 punished the trigger of his modified repeating blaster as if it was the enemy commander. One by one, Mandalorians fell before the wrath of the demonic droid and its master.

Another caterpillar track was torn apart by Revan's blade, as an AA tank blew up in a sphere of auburn fire.

"HK!" The knight shouted "How far are we from the first friendly line?"

"Reply: A good mile, sir!" The droid responded in kind.

"Run towards Colonel Yorimaek! Tell him to bring out the fighters!"

"Reply: Yes master!"

The droid's repeating blaster scythed its way across enemy lines, leaving behind a trail of dark blood. In a matter of seconds, the droid was no longer in sight.

Revan continued to randomly hack every Mandalorian that crossed his path. He dismembered a group of three foes before throwing his curved lightsaber against the chest plate of golden armored man.

The Mandalorian had not reached the ground before Revan retrieved his lightsaber, using the dead man's body to propel him a few meters across the field.

The knight no longer bothered redirecting shots fired at him. He was in frenzy. A seemingly endless thirst for blood… for Mandalorian blood.

"Bastard!" He shouted, as another armored foe fell before him, victim of a dozen of well placed hacks. Revan heard the unmistakable sound of a fighter's engines flying above his head.

He needed only to look up, to see twenty V-shaped figures shredding the Mandalorian lines as if they were a piece of cloth. Limbs flew across the field… the very air around Revan seemed to be nothing but a huge blood spatter.

The General dashed across the battlefield, using the force to increase his speed and dodging the attacks of his own fighters.

"Lucius!" Revan shouted, surprised a the sight before him.

The knight half expected to see a bunch of broken soldiers. Too hurt to offer any kind of resistance to the Mandalorian offensive. What he found, however, was a true army. Organized, fearsome, fearless…

Immediately, the young man's thoughts focused on his lover, Bastila Shan. What he was seeing was the fruit of an old Jedi technique: Battle Meditation.

"Sir!" Colonel Yorimaek responded, bringing the man out from his thoughts "Bastila, sir… She's…"

"I know, Lucius…" He said, smiling beneath his mask. "But this is not the time for celebrations… You!" The knight said, pointing at a communications soldier. "Get in touch with the airborne squadrons, I want them to focus their fire on the Mandalorian Mechs. Only the Mechs… Do you understand me?"

"Yes sir!" The young recruit before him said, terrified of the General's blood covered mask.

"Lucius, hand out all the ammo we have. I want a gun in every man able to move forward."

"Yes, sir…"

"Let's rout this army, my friend…"

* * *

"**The battlefield is a scene of constant chaos. The winner will be the one who controls that chaos, both his own and the enemies."**

**-Napoleon Bonaparte

* * *

**

_Outer Rim World of Peleus Prime. Plains of Pella, planet's southern hemisphere. 3.962 years before the Battle of Yavin. Planet's spring, 08:42 local time._

The last of the Mandalorian walkers exploded with a thundering sound. It echoed across the battlefield for what it seemed an eternity. It was the sound that marked a whole new phase in the fight. It was the sound that marked the Mandalorians' doom.

Not a minute passed after it, before the first shell of a Centaur walker was fired at the middle of the Mandalorian line. A moment later, all Mechs in the Republic army began firing at the heart of the warrior race's formations.

Another minute passes. A horn is sounded. The Mandalorian soldiers barely had time to register confusion, before the scenery before them turned into a blood red chaos.

Led by a dark robed figure, carrying a crimson blade, the Republic infantry pushed forward, against their terrified attackers. One by one, Mandalorians fell, as a torrent of rage and vengeance took over the previously weak and foolish Republic soldiers.

"Revan has changed them…" The Mandalorian commander said, sighing. He looked down at his severed legs. They bled, gushing out the life of the golden armored man. "Damn the Sith, and their proposals…" He said, as his vision began to blur. "Fighting him would be reward enough…"

The old commander drew his last breath, closing his eyes. The sight of his ever-proud army retreating was too much for the old man. He died, as he lived: Like a Warrior.

In the midst of bloody chaos, no one notice the death of Cornelius Fett… a proud Mandalorian.

* * *

"**Veni, vidi, vici."**

"**I came, I saw, I conquered."**

**- Gaius Julius Caesar

* * *

**

_Republic Battlecruiser, Iron Hawk. Revan's personal War Room. 3.962 years before the Battle of Yavin. 14:00 Galactic Standard time. Debriefing._

No words were exchanged between the members of Revan's inner circle. The day's bloody business was over. Only a couple hundred Mandalorians remained alive in the planet beneath them, an issue the planetary government could very well handle.

Each of the present at the War Room had their own routine after a major battle.

Revan, for example, took a long bath, followed by a long period of time in which he simply laid across his bed, hugging Bastila, and breathing calmly.

Now, for the first time in over five hours, all members met after their crushing victory.

"What are the numbers?" Revan asked, breaking the silence.

"Three thousand dead… Times two wounded." Titus Vorm spoke up. Revan had given the tall man the command of the right flank. Two hundred Mandalorians from the Vorm clan had lost their lives… Mandalorian fighting Mandalorian… Titus, Revan thought, could begin to have doubts…

"Theirs?"

"All battle-droids were destroyed. Sixty thousand Mandalorians dead, nine thousand captured."

"Would they change their allegiance?"

"I doubt it. Most of them are from the Ordo clan, the same as the current Mandalore's."

"T-This…" Revan said, breathing harder "…has been a long day. But do not think for a moment we'll have a break after this. Mandalore was not at the head of this army, and the complete lack of a fleet orbiting the planet only adds to the possibility that this attack was meant as a trap. The Mandalorians will most likely invade the Japrael system within the next few hours…"

"But there is good news out of this…" The General continued "…Bastila has finally mastered Battle Meditation, something that will prove to be decisive in future battles…"

"Revan, stop this…" Bastila said, blushing.

"Now…" Revan said, smiling for the first time since the battle was over. "All of you better get some rest. You'll need it for the upcoming battle…"

One by one, the members of the inner circle left the war room. General Revan was alone when he received word of Malak. The bald man was in the holo-display, with pressing updates on the war. 'It has begun…' the knight thought, pressing a button before him. The image of his long term friend appeared before him.

"Already?" Revan asked, knowingly.

"Already…" The bald man confirmed. "Our scouts picked up their fleet a few parsecs from Japrael's southern border."

"It means they'll reach the third planet from the system first…" The young knight said to himself "How many men, approximately?"

"From the size of the fleet, I'd say three hundred thousand. Mandalore seems to lead that attack personally."

"What makes you say that?"

"The Mandalorian Battlecruiser, Head of the Viper, is leading the attack. Our sources indicate that is the Ordo flagship."

"How far from the southern edge of Japrael are you?"

"A few hours… I'd probably reach it before they did. Why?"

"I'm fifteen hours from it. And I don't want to risk our fleet against such odds…"

"What's your plan?"

"Retreat."

"What?"

"A strategic retreat, Malak, making sure they follow you every step of the way"

"Retreat to where?"

"First of all, you will leave about a hundred thousand men at the eastern border of Japrael. I'll meet them there, so are forces are equally divided."

"Go ahead…"

"Then you'll retreat to the first planet of the Japrael system."

"And we'll meet them there?"

"Not at the actual planet. The primary moon is inhabited, so it would be better. Just place yourself between the planet and the moon. That should be enough to lure them into it."

"Ok… Then I guess I'll see you there."

"Yes, Malak… See you in Dxun."

* * *

TBC

* * *

Author's notes: And we have a fifth chapter! 

Bloody isn't it? I guess it's because I went through some old Sepultura CDs I had… So I was feeling a bit aggressive… ROOTS! BLOODY ROOTS!... cough… never mind.

This chapter's a bit shorter, but I think it's better than the last one. Well, you judge for yourselves.

Oh, and I promise to review the fics that are in my favorites list ASAP. Second week at work, you see…

"**There is no horrible work. Horrible is to having to work at all…"**

**- Ramón Valdez**

**Read and Review**


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Knights of The Old Republic and all of its characters belong to LucasArts, Bioware and Obsidian

**Chapter 6 – Dxun: Part 1**

_Hyperspace. Republic Battlecruiser Iron Hawk, Revan's personal Flagship. En route to Japrael System__Winter in GSC (Galactic Standard Calendar). 3.962 years before the Battle of Yavin. 03:57 Galactic Standard Time._

Brigadier General Revan Stormrider fell hard against the floor for the seventh time in that half of the hour. A pain in his back that was previously only a minor wound was now a sharp sore that seemed to constrict his very spinal column.

He looked at the man before him not with anger, but almost as a plea. The thought of begging for him to stop was nothing but an impossible hope. He looked around as he saw his newly formed 'Dagger Squadron'.

"Are you done? We still have an hour until we reach Japrael…" The man asked.

"I'm sorry, Yusanis, but how is 'beating the crap out of me' supposed to teach me anything of the Echani techniques?"

"They are learning…" The old man said, pointing at the black armored man. Revan took a moment to admire the men's armor designs. Nothing more than a regular Mandalorian sniper's armor, yet painted pitch black. A long black cape flowed behind their armor, a small self-recharging jet-pack attached to it. The cape was able to retract into a small pouch above the jet-pack, so that its length wasn't a thorn in stealth missions.

Add that to an impressive looking sawn-off sniper rifle, capable of both precision and destructive damage, and you got yourself a pretty complete pack of assassins. The General was quite impressed at how fast Titus was able to muster and train his men into assassination operatives. Apparently, the Vorm commander had taken those he called unfit, stripped them off their armor, replacing them with a Republic Regular's uniform, and ordered them straight into the Mandalorian lines, with a mission: Search and eliminate the enemy General. Though far from being elite troopers, the 'Daggers' were ready as any Mandalorian for a fast deployment in the jungles of Dxun.

"They may be learning…" Revan said, breaking his own line of thought. "…but I don't see the point of seeing ME getting knocked down again and again."

"It is necessary for these men to know that you are human, and therefore, can be killed…" The old man said, gathering his training material, getting ready to leave. "…I know you want to raise their morale, Revan. But they need to learn that when you're not around they'll be required to make their own decisions, vital ones."

"They're Mandalorians!" Revan said, catching his breath "I think they have that independence in them…"

"Perhaps…" Yusanis said "But you can't be sure, can you?"

"Ok…" Revan said, with an angry look. "Teach me how to kill you."

"Ha!" The old Echani laughed, going into a battle stance; his _twenty sixth _different battle stance of the day. "That's the spirit, boy! Get ready!"

The old war hero threw everything he had at the Republic General. Dozens of well placed punches and kicks reached Revan's defenses, only to be parried away by the knight's Jedi techniques.

After a good minute of sparring, the old Echani began to penetrate Revan's defensive scheme. The General realized the old war veteran was becoming less predictable. Moves Revan could see clearly in his mind before it happened never actually occurred. When he moved his arm to parry a blow to the right abdomen, Yusanis kicked him with the back of his left foot. When he raised his leg to avoid a low kick, he found himself being elbowed in the neck. This true 'massacre' continued for about a minute and a half, when Revan finally reached the ground for the eighth time that day, ending the training session.

"Get ready…" He said to the Daggers, his voice barely above a painful moan. "Get to your posts and wait for my call. I might use you as Marines in this Battle…"

The soldiers did as they were told, and went about their preparation routines. Yusanis helped Revan up, sitting him down near the entrance.

"How did you do that?" the young General asked.

"What? Stop you from reading my mind?" Yusanis asked, laughing and sitting next to the beaten up man. "It's an old Echani technique… Through our extensive training, our fighting moves become instinctive. We don't think about what we do, we just do it."

"But I was clearly seeing your fight plans."

"I was thinking about different moves than the ones I was executing…" He said, grinning. "What? You were supposed to learn Echani fighting styles, not show off your Jedi skills! Trust me, Revan, you will learn to fight by instinct or you'll get beaten senseless every day…"

"Thanks… I guess…"

"Go on. Take a shower, get yourself to the medbay, and relax a bit. I'll meet you in the bridge when we reach Japrael…"

"Will do…" He said, getting up. A warm shower was precisely what he needed to relax his sore muscles.

A good minute in the open showers of the Battlecruiser's gym, the knight received a visit from an old acquaintance of his.

"I don't trust him." Said a cold, weak voice.

"Holy shit!" He shouted, scared to death. The knight turned around immediately recognizing the voice. After a moment of confusion the knight covered himself with his hands and continued. "Kreia! This is the men's locker room! You can't be here!"

"Oh, please, Revan, I've known you since you were five… There's nothing I haven't seen…"

"Well… The 'Little Master' surely is different!"

"The _what_?"

"Never mind… What are you doing here, again?"

"I was saying I don't trust him."

"Who? Yusanis? You've got to be kidding, right?"

"The Chancellor's insistence in him coming along only adds to my suspicions…"

"He's his war advisor!" He said, turning off the water and rushing off to get a towel. "He probably wants to know how the war is coming…"

"I know you, Revan… And I know you see the hidden intention in the Chancellor's every move."

"He's not my favorite person in the Galaxy…" the young knight said, drying his hair. "But not even Traraan is stupid enough to try and send Yusanis on an assassination mission."

"And why do you think that?"

"He's Echani. They value honor and battle above all things. You can consider them the equivalent to the Mandalorians in the Republic. There's no way he'd accept such petty mission as stabbing someone in the back…"

"And who says he would know of his mission?"

"Now you lost me…" He said with a sigh. "Can we have this conversation another time, Master? Even though you're blind, I find it strangely disturbing to be naked in front of you."

"This is not the time for such trivial thoughts…"

"Nor is this the time for this conversation. We'll reach Onderon in about half an hour… Which reminds me…" the General said with a confused expression "…How did you get here? I thought you were with Malak?"

"I was. I requested to be left behind with the part of the fleet waiting to join you. The two fleets met outside of Hyperspace about ten minutes ago."

"And no one told me? Look… It doesn't really matter. Can you wait for me in the Bridge? Please?"

She left without the slightest bit of indication if she was going to comply or not. Revan sighed; knowing his former Master, he really should have expected that kind of behavior.

After dressing up in his usual black tunic, the knight left towards his room. If there was one thing that served as a relaxation for him before battles, it was looking at Bastila's eyes.

* * *

**"Love is as unproblematic as a vehicle. The only problems are the drivers, the passengers and the road"**

**-Franz Kafka

* * *

**

_(Revan's room)_

After a quick stop by the ship's medbay, General Stormrider finally arrived at his room. He looked at the small figure in his king-size bed (who should really be called 'God-size' bed, it was so big). Her simple presence in the room was enough to make Revan's heart glow.

On top of that bed, sat an incredibly stressed Bastila Shan.

"Hey, dear…" Revan said, closing the distance between the two. The knight kissed her gently on the lips and sat down next to her. Noticing her distress, he continued. "What's bothering you?"

"This battle…" She said simply, failing even to look away from the ground. "It will be the first time I'll use Battle Meditation in large scale fighting…"

"Don't worry, Bastila…" He said carefully massaging her shoulders. "You're ready for this. Kreia thinks so, and if she believes in your skills, which is incredibly rare for her to do so, believe me: You're ready."

"Thanks, Rev…" She said, resting her head on his shoulder. The young knight raised her head with his index finger. After a brief moment staring deeply into Bastila's eyes, Revan kissed her lips passionately, earning a surprise 'Hmpf' from the young woman besides him.

"Revan…" She began, in between kisses. "I… really… think… this… isn't… the time… Hmpf… for… this…"

"Carpe diem, Bastila…" He said, taking a break. "Carpe diem…"

"Rev… Revan… Really… NOT NOW!" She said, kicking him off her.

"What's wrong?" He said, surprised.

"We have a battle to fight!" She said, getting up from the bed, and rubbing her face, a worthless effort to hide the blush on her cheeks. "One we have to fight HALF AN HOUR from now!"

"… I can deal with half an hour."

"Revan!"

"Ok! Ok…" The knight said, inhaling deeply. "Couldn't you just tell me you have a headache?"

"We will go to the bridge of the ship…" She said, glaring at the man before her "… and we will fight this battle seriously. NO distractions!"

"Fine…" He said, still sitting down on the bed.

"Will you just sit there?" She asked, impatiently.

"I need a minute…"

"What are you talking about?"

"A minute…" He simply said. Bastila observed the uncomfortable way the man was sitting in his bed. "I need a minute…"

"Oh…"

"Only a minute… Wait for the blood to return to the brain…"

"You need some ice?"

"Nah, I'll be fine…" He said, looking at the ceiling and tapping his hands furiously. "I just… need a minute."

"…"

"…"

"Is that all you think about?" She asked, curiously.

"I'm twenty, and we could die in a few hours… Of course that's all I think about…"

"You really think we could die in a couple of hours?"

"Carpe diem, Bastila… Carpe diem…"

"…"

"…"

"…Can I…?"

"Go… I'll meet you there…"

She smiled sympathetically, as she exited the room. The knight still waited alone in his bed, for a while.

For a minute…

* * *

"**Gentlemen, when the enemy is committed to a mistake we must not interrupt him too soon."**

**Lord Horatio Nelson.

* * *

**

_Republic Flagship, Iron Hawk. Over Onderon, first planet of the Japrael System. Winter in GSC. 3.962 years before the Battle of Yavin. 04: 31 Galactic Standard Time._

The two hundred and sixty seven ships that formed the main body of Revan's fleet left hyperspace a few thousand miles away from the battle before them. In the distance, the occasional flash of light was the only evidence of a battle in progress.

"Sir…" A young lieutenant said, as Revan entered the bridge. "We are out of hyperspace and heading towards the battle… Shall we sound general quarters, sir?"

"There's no rush, lieutenant…" the General responded calmly "They won't attack us right now."

"And what makes you so sure…" He heard a voice say. The knight turned around to find Admiral Karath walking into the room, only a few steps behind him.

"Well, my senior friend…" He began, jokingly, extending an arm for the old Admiral to walk ahead of him "They will make an assessment of our forces, and calculate their chances… After a while, we'll fight, but not before a calm strategic overview of the situation from Mandalore."

"A good assumption…" Karath replied "Then why aren't we attacking them before they get a chance to do all that routine?"

"Because even though Mandalore leads them…" He said, taking his time to observe the other people in the room. Lucius was by his side, as usual, with HK a few steps behind. Bastila and Kreia were talking by the tactical holo-map located in the center of the bridge. "Where is Titus?"

"In the troop deployment addressing his Mandalorians…" Karath responded. "Now, don't drop the subject. 'Even though Mandalore leads them…'"

"Right… Even though Mandalore leads them, there are still headstrong commanders within the Mandalorian hierarchy. We'll calmly approach the field of battle, and take out any ship that goes up against us on their own…"

"So you're luring them into a trap?"

"Not them all…" He said, confident "But in a minute or so, they'll finally notice us, and a few of their ships will come to take us on, before Mandalore has any say in it."

"Sir…" Lucius interrupted them, right on the spot. "A number of Mandalorian ships have broken off their main formation and are heading towards us…"

"Told you…" He said to Karath, smiling. "How many ships?"

"A moment, sir…" Lucius said, checking a screen before him. "Barely over a hundred, sir… Do you need an exact number?"

"No, no…" He said, approaching the front of the bridge so his voice could be heard throughout the entire room. "Sound General Quarters…"

"Sound General Quarters, I sir…" Lucius said, carrying out his orders.

"Signal the fleet…" he said, waiting for the previous message to be sent. "Cannonball."

"Cannonball, I sir…" Lucius said, reaching for a comm. unit in the console before him. "All ships, formation change. Cannonball, I say again: Cannonball!"

"Just wait…" Revan said, seeing Admiral Karath's raised brow. "Signal the fleet. All ahead full…"

"All ahead full, I sir…" the colonel said retransmitting his orders.

"What are you planning?" Karath said, getting closer to the strategic holo-map. The blue dots that represented the republic ships began moving. It wasn't long before the man was able to see clearly the dots assuming a spherical formation, heading straight towards the drawn-out enemy.

The 'cannonball' was in itself a defensive formation, for it had, ideally, no weak spots. To attack with the 'cannonball' was always considered suicidal, simply because it always allowed for the enemy to flank it with little to no opposition.

"Attacking them head-on is not a clever strategy…" Saul Karath continued, looking worriedly at the hologram before him. Revan only smiled and waited, his ever calculating brain already anticipating any future moves made by the attacking ships.

"Signal the fleet…" He finally said, when the enemy was only a few hundred miles from the cannonball. "Flanks ahead two thirds. Center ahead one third…"

"Flanks ahead two thirds; center ahead one third, I sir…"

"Ah…" Admiral Karath said, smiling. In the holo-display before him, the cannonball began to change its shape. As the center slowed down and the flanks advanced ahead, the cannonball had, now, an open mouth, ready to engulf the Mandalorian ships stupid enough to charge without orders. "You knew there would, most likely, be no communication between them… They would attack without strategy, and the cannonball provided a flexible formation… I'm impressed."

"Thank you…" He said, taking a small bow. "Lucius, put up our umbrella, if you please…"

"Umbrella, I sir…" Colonel Yorimaek said, smiling knowingly. "Signal to the fleet. Man fighters. Let fly, I repeat: Let fly. Umbrella cover around the destroyers."

The cannonball now resembled _nothing_ like a cannonball, coming closer to a hive. The Mandalorians had no chance. Attacked from everywhere, the ones that tried to retreat were shot down by their own fleet, as a punishment for disobeying Mandalore's orders.

The three separate fleets were now visible in the holo-display. Two large blue formations surrounded a immense red one. Revan paced nervously around the tactical hologram.

"If they sit tight they'll win this battle…" He said, observing the size of the red formations. "We're strongly outnumbered, not to mention divided…"

"We could make an effort…" Titus said, stepping closer to the General. "…to join up with Malak again… better odds."

"That would mean either Onderon or the rest of Japrael would be open to them…" Karath said, looking at the bigger picture. "We fight this battle as we are or we do not fight at all."

"Do we have their numbers?" Revan said, turning around to face Lucius.

"In a moment, sir…" the colonel said, already ahead of them. "Five hundred thousand, sir… Give or take."

"Five hundred thou…" The knight said, drifting off. He stared into the open space before them. "How's Malak holding up?"

"Decently enough…" Revan's right hand said, rubbing a concerned forehead. "He's entrenched himself pretty tightly in Onderon. He's using not only the fleet, but also the Ion guns of Iziz."

"Smart…" Karath said, joining Revan at the window before him. "What are you thinking of?"

"Ever heard of the phalanx?" Revan said, smiling. A small chuckle escaped in between the General's breath.

"Who hasn't?" Karath said, remembering the Republic academy of officer's formation (RAOF). "Ancient formation… Uses both defensive and offensive principles… Why?"

"What do we want, Admiral?"

"What?"

"What is our first goal in the battle?"

"Well…" He said, thinking. "To get them on that moon… Dxun, right?"

"Exactly…" Revan said, turning around and heading back to the tactical map. The knight pressed a few buttons, allowing him to manipulate the set inside the hologram. "If we attack them, aggressively, and base our offensive plan in capturing ships and turning them against the Mandalorians, we can press them against Malak's entrenched positions. We, the fast attacking 'cavalry', will press the enemy troops right to their deaths at the hands of Malak's 'hoplites'… They'll have no other choice but to entrench at Dxun."

"What will keep them from retreating into hyperspace?" Lucius asked, joining in on the conversation. Their attentions were diverted as the top half of a dead Mandalorian drifted across the transparisteel windows of the bridge.

"Honor will…" Titus responded, breaking the dark mood. "They will fight or they will die."

"Then we shall carry it out…" Revan said, putting on his mask. "Sign the alert. The bloodbath will begin…"

* * *

**"Can a man still be brave if he's afraid?" **

**"That is the only time a man can be brave"**

**George R. R. Martin – A Game of Thrones (1996)

* * *

**

Malak stood dumbstruck aboard the Battlecruiser, Executor. Was the tactical hologram before him broken? He couldn't possibly be seeing Revan 'Man-with-the-plan' Stormrider attack the Mandalorians head-on, could he?

And yet there it was, an outstretched line of destroyers, frigates and cruisers, attacking the enemy ships. He saw several red dots fighting alongside Revan's fleet, which meant Revan began to send Marines into the fighting. The Daggers were in motion.

He could see perfectly Revan's capital ship at the middle of the incredibly maneuverable republic formation. Frigates at the sides, destroyers at the front, and huge Battlecruisers shelling the Mandalorian front lines with everything they had, without ever being stationary.

Malak saw several traps formed, in which a republic ship was left a few hundred miles ahead of the main formation, in order to draw the attention of nearby enemy ships. Once they caught the bait, the ship would retreat into an open semi-sphere in which Republic ships initiated boarding maneuvers. Slowly but steadily, the Mandalorians were beginning to be pushed back.

"Back at us…" Malak whispered looking at the bigger picture.

"What are you talking about?" Serra said, besides him. "Revan's winning, right?"

"Winning, yes…" He said, smiling. "But pushing them back at our direction…"

"What?" She said, alarmed. "Then why aren't you attacking? Telling them there's something here as well… Showing them it is best to flee!"

"Their fleet escaping does not suit our needs…" Malak said, finally getting Revan's plan. "We need to make them entrench in Dxun. To do that, they must have the slightest bit of hope they can succeed. They have that in Dxun. A siege will cost many lives in both sides, and the Mandalorians know that… It won't be long before they start to orbit around the planet, looking for a stronger position. Our job? Sit tight, and let them hit the sarissas…"

"The what?"

"The sarissas…" the bald man said, turning around. "Revan's a geek for ancient history. And there's an old strategic formation called the phalanx, in which the men would line up their shields and point the 18 ft long sarissa at the enemy. The cavalry would go behind the enemy troops and attack their rear. That would push the enemy right against the phalanx, and the sarissas' edge…"

"So he's attacking them, so they can get into our range of fire?"

"Exactly…" Malak said, sitting down at his chair at the bridge. "When fired upon from front and rear, that moon will look surprisingly inviting for them…"

"So I guess we wait…"

"Not entirely…" Malak said, turning his chair to his second in command. "Lieutenant Onasi, Order our reserves to guard the left flank. If the Mandalorians reach it, order the line to slowly advance, without breaking off, until we cut off their escape route…"

"I, sir…"

"I don't like him…" Serra whispered, close to Malak.

"Who? Onasi? What makes you say that?"

"Too much of a poster boy… looks like he would stab us in the back if it pleased the Republic."

"I get the same feeling, actually…" Malak smiled. "But don't worry, as long as we stay in line we have nothing to worry…" He said, a bit too seriously.

"You're hopeless…" She said, turning around and leaving. Malak could only laugh. His day was a calm one, so far...

* * *

**(Twenty hours later – Aboard the 'Head of The Viper')**

"Can we turn it around?" A dark green armored man, Razhu Fett, asked, to no target in particular.

"In space? No. In the ground? We have a shot…" A man with silver and red armor spoke up in his deep, rough voice. A small snake-shaped mark in his right arm plate signified this man belonged to Clan Ordo.

"How could we allow a twenty year old boy beat us so greatly…" A man in golden armor raised his voice, in protest and shame. "We, the scourge of the galaxy! We, the jaw that rips apart a Republic that existed for thousands of years! We, the proud sons of Mandalore the first!"

"Calm down, Nodah of Clan Mhizarr…" An older voice spoke up, earning the attention of everyone at the round marble table. "Revan is no ordinary twenty year old boy… Cornelius was simply crushed at Peleus Prime, our invasion plans in the earlier stages of the war were halted by him when he was only a Lieutenant. We did not loose to a boy we lost to a worthy warrior."

Silent nods were seen even in the dim light that surrounded the members of the war council.

"Forgive me, Mandalore…" Nodah said, bowing his head slightly. "Our spirits are not what they once were…"

"I know the morale of the men is low. And I know I took up the silver helm with promises of returned glory… We needed a crushing victory against their forces to give the war a new beginning."

"And we had it…" The Ordo man spoke up again, with disgust. "We would have killed them if our men remained calm and awaited for their orders… We already lost a third of our fleet to their traps!" He said getting up from his chair. "A third! Those men are so stupid they simply did not deserve to live…"

"Calm down, my nephew… Calm down…" Mandalore said, ordering the man to sit down. "We may loose this not because we are headstrong, but because we are not used to dragged out battles…"

"Dragged out battles? What difference is there!"

"Canderous, you are my nephew and heir to house Ordo…" The man said coldly "But if you ever raise your voice against me again I will feed your vocal cords to my pet Kath Hounds."

"Forgive me, Mandalore…" Canderous said, instinctively rubbing his covered throat.

"As I was saying, the Mandalorian way of fighting is greatly based around the speed of our attacks…" He said, leaning in against the table "When on defensive, we are easily manipulated by any strategist… We need to change that."

"We were on the defensive in Drakkonis. We were on the defensive against Malak the earlier stages of this battle. We have not suffered so greatly!" Razhu Fett asked, punching the table beneath him.

"When on offensive when have we suffered at all?" Mandalore simply stated, earning a silent stare from the members of his council. "And do not dare to mention Drakkonis, Razhu. Your organized retreat was no moment of glory…"

"And how are we supposed to get out of here?" The Fett said "Malak has cut off our escape route, and Revan comes closer and closer to our center."

"Get out?" Canderous said, getting up. "Who said anything about getting out?"

"Mandalore has said it himself…" Razhu said, sitting back down "We cannot stand being in the defensive to long."

"What Mandalore meant…"

"I…" Mandalore said, raising his imposing voice "… will be the one to know what I meant or not."

"Of course, Mandalore…" Canderous and Razhu said in unison.

"As I was saying. We cannot fight prolonged battles. The Basilisk is lightly armored and it carries a limited amount of ammo. It _must not_ stay airborne for too long, or it will become an easy target for the Republic fighters."

"We've already lost half of our Basilisks…" Nodah said, nodding in accordance. "We need to ground them and think over our strategy. If we fight to death our honor may live, but the Mandalorian cause will die…"

"I think we are all in agreement we cannot hold this fighting solely in space?" Mandalore said, seeing nods in agreement. "Then, my friends, any thoughts on where should we ground our forces?"

"The moon…" Canderous said, simply. "Unpopulated by anything but rabid beasts, difficult to establish a beachhead, even harder if we go beneath the ground…"

"It sounds good…" Mandalore said, approvingly. "What is the name of the moon?"

"Dxun."

"Dxun…" The Mandalorian leader said, rubbing his covered chin. "A strong and warrior-like name. Perfect for the Mandalorians… Alright, signal all ships: Assemble all materials as required, we need Dxun as our stronghold."

The war council was adjourned. Each and every Clan representative went about to ensure their armies were ready for a new stage of the battle. One the Mandalorians would fight in equal terms.

* * *

"**The future battle on the ground will be preceded by battle in the air. This will determine which of the contestants has to suffer operational and tactical disadvantages and be forced throughout the battle into adoption compromise solutions."**

**Erwin Rommel

* * *

**

Revan couldn't help but smile at the scene before him. The Mandalorians were, now, clearly forming a low orbit over Dxun. Revan did not attack, as the front lines placed directly against the Republic forces were pulled back to fortify the enemy's position.

"We did it!" He said, grinning beneath his mask. "Lucius, give me the numbers…"

"Yes, sir…" Revan's right hand man said, reading from a datapad. "We just receive words from Malak's fleet as well. Our side, thirty seven frigates down, twelve destroyers and one of the Battlecruisers in desperate need of a time in the space docks of Corellia. Malak's side: twenty seven frigates down, twenty one destroyers down as well… No Battlecruisers were damaged. A hundred and eighty nine total fighters shot down. At your orders the bombers were spared."

"Go on…"

"Estimate crew casualties, thirty thousand, give or take, on the Republic side. Mandalorian ships captured, twenty five frigates and seven destroyers. The crews surrendered."

"The Daggers?"

"Led the marines in the fighting. Of the five hundred and forty seven Daggers, a hundred and six didn't live to tell the story."

"The Mandalorian casualties?" A deep voice asked. Revan turned to see a grim looking Titus Vorm observing the debris drifting in space.

"From the nearly two hundred ships we destroyed, we can estimate about eighty thousand Mandalorians killed."

"Great job everyone… Tell Bastila I'll talk to her in a minute…"

"I, sir…"

"How are you holding up?" Revan said, standing alongside Titus. In the distance, Revan could see the bridge of a Mandalorian destroyer burst in flames as it entered the gravitational field of Dxun. The knight took a mental note that several clearings would be formed by the fallen debris in the forest moon. A perfect place for a beachhead, perhaps…

"It is still hard not to be fighting against my own race… My own culture…"

"Titus, you are free to go, as well as any Mandalorian under my service."

"Honestly, sir…" The tall Mandalorian said, turning to face the young knight. "Your fighting is our fighting. My men see you almost as a Mandalore, and I am proud to serve your cause."

"Thank you, my friend…" He said, placing his hand on the Mandalorian's shoulder. "Then, may I ask why the dark mood?"

"It was nothing…" Titus said, turning back to watch the flaming debris "Only remembering an old verse of a Mandalorian song…"

"Which one?" Revan asked, curiously.

"_Shades of Death are all I see. Fragments of what used to be…"

* * *

_

Author's Notes: Ok, so that last line was from Skeletons of Society (Shades of Death are all I see, Skeletons of Society!), by Slayer. So what?

Dxun will be written in three to five chapters. A battle this important is impossible to describe in a single chapter. Personally, I don't think this is the best chapter. You'll be the judges.

I want to take a moment to thank everyone that reviewed my other fic, and sent truly encouraging words for me to continue it. Unfortunately, by breaking Cannon in that as well, I would most likely get in the way of this fic (something I sincerely don't want to do) so I may not continue it as I said.

This fic is my top priority (other than, job, college, family and love life.) and will get updated as soon as I find the time (:p)

Thank you for all your kind reviews of the last chapter.

**Read and Review.**

"**The early bird, spends the rest of the day sleepy…"**

**- Ramón Valdez, rest in peace.**


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Knights of The Old Republic and all of its characters belong to LucasArts, Bioware and Obsidian

**Chapter 7 – Dxun: Part 2**

_Hyperspace. Republic Battlecruiser Iron Hawk, Revan's personal Flagship. High orbit over Onderon, first planet of the Japrael system__Winter in GSC (Galactic Standard Calendar). 3.962 years before the Battle of Yavin. 17:22 Galactic Standard Time._

**At the siege of Dxun**

**(Day 1)**

The Republic ships maintained their constant rhythm around Onderon's forest moon. There were no shots fired. An unofficial truce was in place. Casualties were evaluated, turbolaser cannons were reloaded and repaired, ammo cartridges were restocked and distributed, fighters were manned… It had been like that for over two hours.

A young general, clad in black cortosis armor, paced nervously around the Iron Hawk's bridge. His masked face almost seemed to represent a death-like serenity to the chaos of the battle fought not a day before in these very grounds.

"We'll have to make the first move…" He said, letting his arms, previously crossed in front of his chest, fall to his sides. "There's no way they're going to leave their fortified positions to lure us in…"

"Are you sure…" An old man, Admiral Karath said. "It could be a trap. Make us take the all-out offensive only to strike at our chaos' expense. Ever heard of the Ardennes?"

"Yes, I have…" Revan said, thinking. "But the Ardennes offensive had the same critical point the Mandalorians are facing: The lack of fuel and troop reserves. In a while the Mandalorians will have nothing but their vibro-swords to fight."

"A Mandalorian will use his teeth if needed be…" A tall heavily armored man, Titus Vorm, said. "With Mandalore amongst them, the Clans will fight to the last man."

"Which sucks for our battle but only aids our cause…" Malak said, in his usual informal tone. "A victory of such scale would do wonders to our cause, as martyrdom, I understand, has little to no influence to a Mandalorian."

"Their deaths would be honorable, yes…" Titus said, nodding in agreement. "But their deaths would not be made as motivation by the rest of the army. We see the value of a fighting soldier, not a dead one."

"It always made me curious, Titus…" Revan said, resting his head against the steel walls of the ship's bridge. "Is there actually any Mandalorian women?"

"Of course there are…" He said amused. "But none are fighting this war. There are two different Mandalorian classes, the workers and the fighters. The workers remain in our home planet, carrying on their lives, in hope of some day passing the fighters' test, or Amtal, and live with our fighting Clans in the Outer Rim. Women are not allowed in the battlefields for strategic reasons, not prejudice. If they were allowed to fight, the Mandalorian race would be doomed to either nomadic existence, or extinction."

"Wait a minute…" Revan said, not understanding. "Your home planet's not on the Outer Rim?"

"Planet Mandalore is a forgotten barren wasteland in the Inner Rim."

"Then why isn't there a Republic army orbiting it?"

"Planet Mandalore isn't at war with the Republic. The Confederacy of Mandalorian Clans, with headquarters at Malachor V, is at war."

"Wow… You do learn something new everyday, don't you?"

"You sure do…" Malak said, laughing in surprise. "Now, can we leave the history lesson behind? We have a war to fight."

"Sure, sure…" Revan said, approaching the holo-display before him. The green orb of Dxun represented at a reasonably large scale. "They pretty much organized their defenses in shells; an outer one, followed by three intermediate and an inner one, which consists of the heavier and most powerful Capital ships…"

-We'll divide our troops into five different sectors, each on the same distance from one another. Each sector will work as a spearhead, hitting the shell defenses into five different positions. The large number of fronts will prevent them from trying to encircle our troops, as if you move their troops away from the shell formations, it will leave a weak spot in each of the other four fronts."

"Smart…" Karath said, rubbing his shaven chin in appreciation. "But while we hit the outer shells we'll be fired upon by the other layers."

"That's when the Marines, led by the Mandalorians (specially the Daggers), come in. They are to infiltrate the inner shells in the midst of the Chaos. There will be heavy opposition, but I'm confident on our warrior friends…"

"As am I…" Malak said, with a bit of hesitation. "But to send them in alone to capture the ships. The moment they start firing they will become the target for the whole Mandalorian Armada."

"They won't fire at their own ships. They are to fire at ours…"

"What?"

"And miss. Completely. That way, the Mandalorians will still believe they have control of those ships, and when we have enough numbers, and when the outer shell is taken, they will find themselves under fire from both our front and the middle of their lines."

"Even smarter…" Karath added, smiling. The old man always knew Revan would one day surpass his own strategic mind, he just didn't know it would happen so soon. "When shall this plan begin to be executed?"

"At 1800 hours. It'll give me time to talk to Bastila, and for Titus to prepare the Daggers." He said, turning towards the gigantic Mandalorian. "I'll address them personally. They're in for a big challenge, and I think I can help boost their morale a bit."

"Yes, milord…"

"It's Reva… You know what, forget it…"

"Yes, milord…"

"Take care of things. Assemble them in the Hangar." The young knight said, turning his back at Titus and leaving the room.

'_Time to face the boss…'

* * *

_

Bastila inhaled deeply after an exhausting use of Battle Meditation. She was tired. The young Padawan could feel her lover's presence approach, but after what Kreia said, she didn't know if the young knight really loved her…

"Hey, Bast…" Revan said, entering the room, a grin plastered across his face. "I can't believe how quickly you're mastering Battle Meditation…" He commented, kissing her lips gently. "This would really make Master Vrook shut up, eh?"

She didn't reply. Her eyes drifted away into a land of endless possibilities. Her normally light blue peaceful eyes now shone with her tears. Not tears of sadness, but those of doubt. Concern… Uneasiness…

"Bastila, what's wrong?" Revan asked, sitting them both down on the room's huge bed.

"I…" She said, sighing. 'Better out than in.' her father always said. "Am I a mean to an end?" She asked, while tears dwelled in her eyes.

"What?" Revan said, taking out the heavy outer layer of his armor and sitting closer to her. The knight hugged her with his right arm.

"More and more, I am left away from you…" Bastila said, looking at his also deep blue eyes. The fierceness of her stare made Revan slightly chuckle. "We rarely get to see each other any more… And what is so FUNNY!" She asked, shouting.

"So this is what this is all about?" He asked, looking at her fragile form, a contrast to her defying stare. "Bastila, I miss the time we were together more often just as much as you do…" He said, gently lifting her chin. The knight kissed her lips ever so lightly, seeing her determination falter. "But we both knew that when we started this relationship there were times we would rarely see each other. We talked about this at Ank Ki'Shor, and the situation has not changed since…"

"I know…" Bastila said, letting her formerly strict pose now drop to a both relaxed and depressed one. "It's just that I don't see an end to all this. I actually thought Mandalore was a man, and when he was killed they would all surrender. Now it's a title, and the current one seems to know just as much about strategy as you do."

"One can certainly hope so…"

"Hope… Revan, why must you always be in search for a true challenge?"

"Ha!" He said, falling back into bed. He looked at the steel roof, and seemed to search an explanation himself. "I don't know… I guess it has always been in me. Life's about that, you know…"

"Life?"

"Our whole life is based around fighting an endless struggle against several opponents. Hunger, misery, violence. In the end, most beings loose these battles. But one cannot win forever. There is an opponent impossible to beat…"

"Who?" Bastila asked, lying back into bed as well, as to stare in Revan's eyes closely. Apparently, the young Padawan had already forgotten what she was fighting about.

"Time…" He said simply, turning on his side as to come closer to her. "It's like a gush of wind. You can't defeat it, but you can ride it with enough determination until it is over."

"Then what?" She asked, herself getting yet again closer to the knight. Their warm breaths mingled in the short space in between them. Bastila's eyes were half closed, partially due to exhaustion, but another part due to the feeling of safety she had when close to Revan.

"Then, my dear…" He said, brushing aside a strand of hair from her face, as she drifted into a peaceful sleep. "You fall… Right into the never ending abyss that is the force. It engulfs it all, it is in every being. When you die, you are merely taking a new journey through that wind. Years go, wars are won… But the Force remains… You know… The Force is the only true constant in the universe. The rest is merely a result of its creating power.

"So when you die…" He said, making his arm an improvised pillow for the woman besides him. The knight held her, as he too began to feel sleep come to him. "…you are returning to the force, only to be returned into existence, another self another life… Another story…"

The young General drifted into a calming rest. The battle could wait.

Slowly but steadily, a bond was being formed by the two sleeping figures. Outside Revan's room, Master Kreia could only smile (if you can call that a smile) as she saw every piece of the chessboard move according to her plans.

* * *

**(Day 2)**

"Wake up, you lazy idiot!" Malak said, punching his friend in the gut. "You've overslept…"

"Malak?" He said, getting up rubbing his sore abdomen. "Was that really necessary?"

"It's 3 AM…"

"What!" Revan said, jumping from his bed. Bastila slowly drifted out of sleep herself rubbing her eyes in confusion. "Why didn't anyone call me?"

"Ask Master Kreia about that…" The bald knight said, pointing to a stationary figure behind him.

"Master?"

"Interesting… The pair has not yet noticed the change…"

"What change?" Revan and Bastila asked in unison. Both looked at each other, in confusion. Again at the same time, they spoke up. "Master, could you please explain"

"Even more interesting…" The old Master said, looking at Malak's confused stare. "They have picked up each other's thoughts, speaking in unison, and yet again they do not notice the change that has happened."

"Change?" They said, again at the same time. "Master, what's going on?"

"Fools…" She said, turning around, preparing to leave. "A bond was formed between the two and you do not even notice. Maybe I overestimated you two…"

"A bond?" They both spoke up, in surprise, looking at each other with baffled eyes. Revan covered Bastila's mouth as if he wanted to talk alone. "The kind created between Master and Padawan?"

"That is but a mind bond…" Kreia responded, looking back at the laughable pair. "You two have a life bond. Much more perilous, as if one dies the other shares its fate, but also incredibly rewarding, for your individual life forces now flow through both of you."

"A life bond…" Bastila said, uncovering her mouth. "How was that done?"

"You two slept together, didn't you? And don't give me that witty smile Malak…"

"Yes Ma'am…" Malak said, looking down in shame.

"They slept together, in the literal meaning of the expression. They shared their essences, taking comfort in each other's presence. During that time, the two presences were so close together, so bound by the will of both the force and the pair, that their two presences became one."

"So…" Revan said, finally understanding. "Whatever happens to me happens to her."

"Right now?" Kreia asked, thinking. "No. The bond is yet on a preliminary stage, though there is no doubt of its existence."

"Good…" Revan said, getting up from the bed and putting on his black armor. "Bastila, I'm sorry, but I'm gonna have to go…" The knight kissed her in the lips, while helping her up. "We'll talk once this battle is over. Then we'll have all the time in the world."

"I know…" She said, looking down, but smiling nonetheless. "When the alarm sounds… Battle Meditation…"

"Hey, don't be like this…" He said, bringing her closer into his arms and resting her head on his armor clad chest. "If you don't feel like using it, don't. I won't pressure you…"

"Don't worry…" She said, stepping away and sitting down on the bed. "I know what's at stake here. I won't let anyone die over my stupid doubts."

Revan didn't know if she was serious or not, but since she had a sincere smile on her face, and he could feel no deception from their bond, the knight let the issue go.

"I'll be back in a while…" He said, grinning and leaving the room with Malak. Kreia approached the young Padawan.

"You are indeed lucky. Revan cares for you more than he does for anyone I have ever met, perhaps more than his father, even…"

"I told you he really loved me." Bastila said, feeling a weight being lifted from her shoulders. "Now we're even bonded… Our lives are forever connected."

"Indeed they are, child…" Kreia said, turning around and leaving the room, not explaining anything at all… as usual. "Indeed they are…"

The metallic doors of the room closed behind the old Master with a hiss. Kreia stood quietly, for a moment; her ashen eyes seeming to be fixed at something by her side.

"Is there something you want, your Excellency?" She asked, not turning around. From the darkness, the form of Senator Yusanis moved closer to the elder Jedi.

"I needed to ask you about this bond thing…" He said simply and thoughtfully. "How will it affect Revan?"

"And why should that be your concern?"

"Because I need to know if the perfect general isn't gonna go soft…" He said, getting straight to the point. "Revan's too an important asset of the Republic and should be refined to perfection. He cannot divert himself of his final goal."

"Which is?" Kreia asked, amusedly.

"Winning the war…" He said, getting directly in front of her. "And keeping the peace."

"Who are we fooling, General…" The old master said, using the Echani's former title. "All Zaborsk is interested in is another term as Supreme Chancellor."

"Perhaps…" He said, not loosing his strand of the conversation. "But to achieve his personal goal he must first win the war…"

"Very true…"

"Will you now, please explain the nature of this bond to me, or not?"

"As you wish…" Kreia said, leading the man through the steel halls of the Iron Hawk. "It may make his hesitate before overwhelming odds, as he has the life of Bastila as a concern just as much as he has his own."

"I knew it…"

"But it will, most definitely make Revan stronger. He is a Jedi Guardian, and focuses on physical techniques, much like yourself…" The old lady said. "With the life bond, Bastila's impressive rule of the Force will most likely be achieved by her lover as well. And Revan's own power will increase the skill of Bastila's Battle Meditation… As you can see, there is more to gain than to loose."

"Hmm…" The middle aged Echani master said, rubbing his unshaven chin. His expression changed from the 'worried General' to the 'smiling teacher'. "Then I guess it's alright…"

The Echani Senator followed Kreia into the Bridge of the Iron Hawk, his (now) typical smile plastered across his face.

'This man is no fool…' Kreia though, worriedly _looking _into the man's brown eyes. 'Now the question emerges: Is Zaborsk really pulling the strings, or is he a puppet himself?'

'For now…' Kreia continued, a cold sweat quickly appearing across her forehead. 'I do not know… And that troubles me more than I would have thought…'

* * *

**(Day 3)**

Dagger 038, or 38 as he was called, sneaked quietly across the durasteel halls of the Myamoto, Capital ship of the Fett clan. He quietly and steadily led his group of Commandos across every room in the Mandalorian Battleship. Annihilating every resistance he could find… without a single shot fired.

Sometimes he questioned himself on why he did it… Why, after all, was he fighting his own race? The answer always came to mind quickly…

Revan…

The knight inspired the twenty two year old Mandalorian. Even though young, he, and he alone, had led the republic forces through victory after victory. Knowing full well the destructive power of the Mandalorian army, 38 could only wonder how he did it…

It was not after his Clan's defection to Revan's flag (every Mandalorian made sure no one made the mistake of calling them 'soldiers of the Republic') the young warrior found out the extent of his current leader's strategic brilliance.

He had taken an old-fashioned army, and transformed it into the most lethal war machine in the entire know universe.

How?

First, applying a good dosage of Mandalorian discipline (a fact 38 was proud to have contributed to). Following that, new equipments, focusing on Mechs capable of penetrating the Mandalorian's Mandametal (A.N.: metal found only on planet Mandalore and main component of the race's armors) armors. He focused his training on ground fights, perfecting the soldiers' personal and collective fighting abilities, in contrast to the tactics of the other generals, who seemed to prefer to meet us in Space Battles. Dagger 38 still remembered the surprised look on the Republic Admirals' faces when Mandalorian boarding parties dismembered the elements of their high commands. Noble or not, the son of a Republic Senator still had a red heart, as 38 could personally attest to.

Not content with correcting the mistakes of the Republic armed forces, Lord Revan had also corrected an old mistake the Mandalorians had always made in their value of traditions: an uniform army.

That means, mostly, that one Mandalorian should be able to perform every single task asked of him. A pilot is dead; every Mandalorian in the ship can take his place. A sniper is killed; an engineer picks up his rifle.

Revan noticed this produced only soldiers that had regular performances in all required skills. The General would have none of that… He wanted… No, he NEEDED something else. The General, their general… required _experts._

38 lacked the strength of a normal Mandalorian, but his speed made up for his faults. Revan, instead of trying to make the young Dagger equal to the rest, made use of his advantage.

The young Dagger silenced his thoughts. The footsteps of another pair of guards coming his way through a parallel hallway echoing in his black Mandalorian scout helmet. He raised an invisible closed fist. One only the five Daggers behind him could see in their T-shaped visors.

The Fett guards took a turn left, in direction of 38's hallway. The assassin slowed his heart and closed his eyes. He inhaled calmly the filtered air of his helm, letting his attack plan take form in his keen mind.

He was ready just as the two guards turned another left. Before they could enter the Dagger's hallway, 38 had already used his barely visible hand to turn the head of the closest guard backwards, and a well placed kick was making its way into the opening just beneath the second guard's breastplate.

The kick hit its spot with deadly precision. The perfect amount of strength broke the enemy's ribs, pushing their shattered pieces against the unaware foe's heart.

The Fett guard had not even fallen when 38 heard a surprised gasp. He had misjudged the size of the enemy's guard forces. A third and fourth foes looked at the fallen men before them. They raised their guns in awareness, and aimed at the invisible void between their two fallen companions.

38 unsheathed a silver dagger (meant only as a ceremonial weapon, yet the young assassin knew full well of its potential) and threw dexterously at one of the opposing troopers. The blade penetrated the man's visor, letting out a gush of blood while he cried with no words.

'The brain is dead…' 38 thought 'It cannot control the enemy's vocal chords.'

The assassin was about to draw his Commando pistol (and brake stealth orders) in order to shoot the last guard. He was surprised, though, by another blade slashing the opponent's neck.

A group of ten Daggers deactivated their stealth fields, revealing themselves to their ally.

"Good to see you, 38…" The leader said, in his black and silver helm. "Wonderful job you've pulled."

"And you, 07…" 38 responded, acknowledging the old assassin's strength. "Thanks for the hand."

"Next time I may not be around…" The leader of the boarding party said, looking at the double blast doors besides him. "Is this it?"

"Yep…" the young Mandalorian said, joining his superior. "The bridge… Shall we take our places?"

"Your men go up the ventilation tunnels. I want a man in every shaft exit in that room, assume sniper protocols."

"Yes sir…"

"Dropship…" 07 said, talking to his wrist communicator. "Send the regulars up here. I want every Mandalorian who isn't flying the ship up here with me."

"Yes, sir…" An unidentified voice responded.

38 made his way into the ventilation shaft through a nearby ventilation room. He could see that at each exit, there was a Dagger handling a sniper rifle.

It would not take too long for the Regulars to reach their location (even as slow as they were), and when they did, permacrete charges would be placed. In a while, Razhu 'The Beast' Fett would be in their grasp.

It would be hard, but the Daggers would prevail. They always did. 38 knew that, and he could only smirk quietly as he took his first shot…

* * *

The only sound Razhu Fett heard was the loud 'thud' as every officer he had on the bridge fell to a silent assassin. The old man turned around just in time to see the blast doors that guarded his ship's command center so well explode in three individual pieces.

Razhu, the beast, did as his own label said: Became an animal.

Instinct took over the elder leader of the Fett Clan. He grabbed an enormous battle-axe, made also of Mandametal, and walked calmly in direction of the invading troops.

Havoc erupted in the Bridge of the Myamoto. Dozens of Mandalorian Regulars from the Vorm Clan stormed the bridge taking out anything they found alive. Of the Daggers, only 07 was at the front, shooting his enemies at close range. The rest of the Vorm assassins took flanking positions besides the blow up doors.

Razhu Fett reached the attackers as a Mammoth reaches a worm, not even bothering to look down, only slashing his double handed axe sideways, cutting in half several men.

Shots were fire and shots were deflected across his reinforced Mandametal armor. Nothing seemed to be able to take down the old Mandalorian.

Seeing the danger, 07 took a few steps back, concentrating his fire at the legs of the huge Fett leader. After a while, 07's strategy worked, as the shots themselves did not hit, but Fett's huge knees felt their impacts nonetheless.

Unfortunately for the assassin, Fett's determination was bigger than the pain on his knee. No matter the small time of hesitation, the huge commander still advanced against 07.

Razhu took only about a minute and a half to get close enough to the assassin to make his axe a viable tool. He swung it sideways, cutting 07's rifle in half. The Vorm commander fell back into the ground. All he could do was watch as his two meters tall opponent raised his axe in the air, preparing for a final blow.

A loud explosion-like sound was heard, as Razhu Fett fell forwards, almost crushing the leader of assassins, who dodged at the precise time. Behind the Fett leader, stood 38, with a smoking ion shotgun.

The young assassin looked down. The shot had not even penetrated the man's helm, but its impact was enough to knock the Clan leader unconscious.

"Never thought I'd live to see the fearful Razhu Fett fall before me…" 38 commented, amusingly. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah…" 07 said, getting up. "Thanks to you…" He said extending a hand.

"Don't mention it…" 38 said, reaching out and performing the typical Vorm handshake. "Shouldn't you contact Lord Revan?"

"I'll do that…" He said, reaching his wrist comm. and pressing a button. "Iron Hawk, this is Dagger Omega, over…"

"Dagger Omega; read you loud and clear…" The voice of Colonel Yorimaek spoke up from the wrist comm.

"Battlecruiser, Myamoto, cleared of foes… What are your orders?"

"Proceed as planned, Omega…" This time the voice was of General Revan, in his usual strong yet calm tone. "Plant the charges and get out of there, once you are safe aboard we'll proceed with the plan."

"Understood, General. Omega out." He said turning off his comm. and speaking up to his men. "Listen up, my friends, you did a good job. Now it's time to finish it. Plant the charges at the designated spots and meet up back at the Dropships. I want everyone back in ten minutes."

Their part was almost done. The Daggers had done their jobs. Now it was time for General Revan Stormrider to do his… The Daggers were confident. Their General never fails.

* * *

_Hyperspace. Republic Battlecruiser Iron Hawk, Revan's personal Flagship. High orbit over Onderon, first planet of the Japrael system__Winter in GSC (Galactic Standard Calendar). 3.962 years before the Battle of Yavin. 19:53 Galactic Standard Time._

"Omega Squadron… Aboard…" Lucius said, turning back to his General. "All squadrons have succeeded and are back behind friendly lines, sir… Awaiting your orders…"

"Good, Lucius… Good…" The General said, turning back towards the holo-display before him. "Order all five sectors… All out attack."

"All out attack, yes sir…" The Colonel said, pressing a few buttons and making the necessary arrangements.

"This better work…" Malak said, thinking about their plan. "We delayed our attack over 24 hours because of it. The Mandalorians are closer together and are better fortified…"

"I should hope so…" Revan said, smiling innocently.

In the strategic display, Revan could see the Fleet hit the Mandalorian Armada at the designated spots. As expected, the outer shell of defenses began to retreat, into open spaces in between ships of the first mid shell. Packed close together, Revan gave the order…

"Start sequence. Show these Mandalorians what it means to be a strategist…"

Lucius pressed a red button in a separate panel of his table, starting the countdown to the Republic's victory above Onderon. Above Dxun…

* * *

Razhu Fett got up, felling dizzy. The shot to the back of his head had been one of strength, and yet he was alive, he thought.

The Clan leader looked around him. No foes to be found and his entire crew killed and stripped of their armors.

"So this is how they got in here…" He said, sighing. Above the main computer of the bridge, a few boxes glowed across the steel floor.

Recognizing a countdown mechanism, Razhu Fett stayed still, dumbstruck. His eyes barely had time to register a bright white light, before all he could see was darkness…

* * *

_Hyperspace. Mandalorian Battlecruiser Head of the Viper, Mandalore's personal Flagship. Low orbit over Dxun, first and only moon of Onderon, a planet of the Japrael system__Winter in GSC (Galactic Standard Calendar). 3.962 years before the Battle of Yavin. 17:25 Galactic Standard Time._

Mandalore stared with eyes wide opened the scenery before him. His entire first mid sector began to explode in coordinated moments, taking with them most of the outer shell and second mid rim.

Huge light blue circles came from within the ships, expanding until their destructive beams hit other vessels.

"Seismic charges?" Canderous asked, just as surprised. "I thought those were for clearing asteroid fields…"

"Apparently…" Mandalore said, letting his shoulders fall in depression. "They serve just as much for clearing battlefields of foes…"

"Uncle, what are your orders…"

"In the Name of Ordo…" Mandalore said, almost falling down. "It will be a bloodbath…"

"Sir, what are you talking about?"

"Those charges will destroy half of our fleet…" Mandalore said, covering his eyes with an armored hand. "And Dxun's gravitational field will destroy the rest…"

Realizing Revan's plan, Canderous smirked. "Smart, this Revan, eh?"

"More than I thought…" Mandalore admitted. "Evacuate all ships, our strongholds in Dxun should almost be ready. Make sure that when those ships…" He said, pointing at the huge number of red dots in the distance, indicating a number of ships on fire. "…hit these, they do not kill a single Mandalorian."

"Yes, Mandalore…" Canderous said, leaving to fulfill his uncle's request.

"Good Gods…" Mandalore said, to himself. "What have we done…"

* * *

The Space battle over Dxun ended as it started: Abruptly.

The gravitational field of the small moon was strong enough to pull the wreckage that was the Mandalorian fleet right against their closely packed allies. Nothing would remain of an Armada of over seven hundred ships.

"Such a waste…" Revan thought before he fell into a deep sleep.

Now begins a new phase in the odyssey that is Dxun. The Mandalorians still had over half their army, entrenched at the forest moon. Now, it was time to put Revan's troops into the final test, an all out offensive against the Mandalorians, in a battle with no fronts.

Are they ready for a guerrilla war? That, only Revan's dreams can ponder…

* * *

**Author's notes:** A seventh chapter has arrived.

I changed a bit the perspective from the 'big guys' of both armies more to the small ones (38 and 07… Any similarity to Republic Commando is not a coincidence), and I thought that made the fic a bit more dynamic.

Speaking of dynamic, you may have realized the quotes were out of this chap. I thought the quotes were always good to bring the reader out of the action and into the strategic thinking. Since this chapter is more about the action than anything else, I decided it was best to leave the quotes out.

Still want one? Fine:

**"In strategy your spiritual bearing must not be any different from normal. Both in fighting and in everyday life you should be determined though calm."**

**Myamoto Musashi**

To 'KingofthePhoenixes': Soon enough?

Thanks for all the kind review, and I'll see you all on my next update (though my next real update will be for my Vampire: The Masquerade fic, which seems to have no reviews… How sad.)

Take care,

Brazilian Sith Lord


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Knights of the Old Republic and all of its characters belong to LucasArts, Bioware and Obsidian

**Chapter 8 – Beachhead**

**(Day 4)**

_Republic Battlecruiser, Iron Hawk. Revan's personal flagship. Low orbit over Onderon's forest moon, Dxun. Winter in the Galactic Standard Calendar. 3.962 years before the Battle of Yavin. 20:19 Galactic Standard Time._

The air of Revan's war room seemed to be as heavy as the General's armor. The only sounds heard in the area were those of the young Knight's fingers, gently tapping the smooth surface of the round silver table that encircled the strategic holo-projector.

"If we go in there fast…" Revan said, thinking out loud. His pale unmasked faced seemed the very essence of concentration. "…we get killed. They're already entrenched and expecting us, so we can't even consider a surprise attack…"

"Heavy bombardment…" Admiral Saul Karath, Revan's must trusted military advisor, said. In a galaxy in which birth has greater value than actual commanding ability, both Saul and Revan developed a deep friendship for being exceptions. After carefully organizing his thoughts, the old man continued. "Take out their main strongholds with our Battlecruisers, as the fighters and transports take out the smaller and better hidden trenches…"

"We can't risk a full assault at more than one point…" Malak said, interrupting. "Our forces are already thinned out, and with no significant reinforcement coming from the Rims we'd risk going in there with a smaller force than needed to take such positions."

"On the other hand…" Lucius, Revan's right hand man, or shadow (as they used to call him, for not leaving the young General alone for a single moment). "If we go in there at one point, we're open for a counter strike that would, at the state we're in, undoubtedly crush us."

"A good point, Lucius…" The General said, rubbing his friend's shoulder in a gesture of comradeship. "But we must not forget they're at a much worse situation than us… Malak's last fighter sortie took away more than half their fuel deposits. They wouldn't be able to completely crush us, as you said, but no doubt cripple us gravely… A defeat over Dxun would mean an invasion would be unviable for several months, in which a Mandalorian fleet might come to lift the siege."

"So what you're saying is that there's no way out of this?" Bastila, the young knight's lover and, according to him, his 'reason to live' said in a tired tone. Her constant use of Battle Meditation had begun to take its toll on the young Sentinel. Her eyelids seemed heavier and darker, as the little sleep she managed to have simply did not meet the tiresome needs of a full day of perfect and strict concentration.

"Have you infiltrated someone amongst the Mandalorian ranks?" Serra Ors, Bastila's best friend and the next Weapons Master to come to the Jedi ranks after a hundred years, had she completed her training. Sure, Master Kreia had made remarkable advances in both Bastila's and her own techniques, but it was still not the same as to have professional training in Dantooine or Coruscant.

"Serra, think straight…" Malak said, with a reproving tone. "What normal living being would risk entering one of the Mandalorian Clans' strongholds, them being the most fearsome warriors in the entire Galaxy?"

"Serra is right, you know…" Revan said, chuckling lightly. "I do have someone in their ranks…"

"You do!" The entire room said in unison, both from shock and from the small flicker of hope that seemed to appear before them.

"Hahaha…" He laughed out loud, causing his old Master Kreia to issue a small 'Hmpf' of disapproval. "Man, you people are easily impressed… Yes. I do have someone in the Fett stronghold."

"The Fett stronghold…" Serra said, thoughtfully. "You took advantage from their partial confusion following the death of their leader…"

"Indeed I have…" Revan said, proudly. "And at this very moment my agent is simply waiting for my go to put my plan into motion…"

"Cocky, aren't we?" Malak said, in a sarcastic, yet truthful, tone. "Can you tell us who this agent of yours is?"

"Now, now…" Revan said enjoying his moment of superiority. One he was sure would not wait, since right now even Bastila was scolding at him. The words 'You can sleep on the couch tonight' quickly came to his mind. "Better than to tell you about my agent, is to tell you about my plan…"

The young general got up from his chair, turning the holo-projector on. The bright green virtual surface of Dxun lightened the room.

In an hour or so, all the pieces were set. Feeling like an old Caesar, Revan ordered the games to begin…

* * *

**(Day 5)**

_Surface of Dxun. Somewhere along the moon's northern pole. Mandalorian entrenchment. Winter in the Galactic standard Calendar. 3. 962 years before the Battle of Yavin. 23:57 Onderon's Standard Time._

Somewhere along the deep canyons of Dxun's northern pole, a wild beast cried an agonizing howl. There was something terribly wrong in the Mandalorian entrenchment that night… At least those were the thoughts of Erich Fett, shift captain for the eastern wing of the Clan's stronghold, the responsible for guarding one of the many so called 'key zones'.

After the crushing defeat for the planet's atmosphere, the Fett were, without a shadow of doubt, the most injured Clan. With their legendary leader lost, the Mammoth lineage now faced a succession issue that came close to armed conflict.

Following a small number of personal duels and promises of glories, the Fett had rallied again under the banner of a relatively unknown warrior, Reinwald Fett… Erich's uncle.

Most would imagine this brought several hopes and dreams into the mind of the young warrior. It did not. All Erich truly wanted to be was a Mandalorian…

_Fight with honor. Serve your sire. Kill your enemy. Earn your glory._

The warrior race's motto was the sum of everything Erich was and aspired to be… Now, as the most likely successor of the Clan's leader, Erich saw all his dreams of a quiet and honorable life fade away.

Thrown into the deep political game that was the Assembly of Gathered Clans, the main council of government for the Confederacy of Mandalorian Clans, Erich was not ready for the corruption so deeply enrooted within his own lineage.

A noise in the background broke the man's line of thoughts. Turning around, while aiming instinctively his heavy repeater blaster, the young warrior became face to face with the unit's ammo droid. Sighing, the young man cursed at himself.

"Am I that paranoid that I do not even trust a rusted droid…" He said, more affirming than asking. To that, the droid could only stare in a relative state of confusion. "Ah, forget it… Half a dozen cartridges of R-3Ts, a couple of P-27ks' and a few thermals…"

The droid nodded positively, detaching its main body from the huge container it carried behind its back. Walking soundly towards the other end, the droid handed the man his request.

"Thank you, rusty…" The man said, taking the time to smirk beneath his helm. "If it weren't for you guys I don't know what would have happened…"

Erich returned to his shift, leaving a very confused ammo droid behind.

* * *

_(From the memory core of such afore mentioned droid)_

_Encrypted beacon sequence concluded. '47 ways to be happy' signaling in to General 'IamTheKingofLove'._

_Memory Note: Remember to inform Master of how ridiculous both surnames are._

_Proud Statement: Operation Canned Meatbags concluded, Master. Grateful Comment: I am honored that you chose to name the Operation after my suggestion, Master._

_Continuing: The iron gorillas have no clue on what has happened to them. Suggestion: It would be wise to begin your assault before anyone has noticed the change._

_Addition: The repeating blaster, modified by your lackey Lucius, fitted perfectly on my thigh armor-plate. Unfortunately, it has caused my already noisy joints to produce an even more irritating sound, annoying some of the plated baboons. After a series of molestations from these men, I was able to get your plan into work. Pleading Request: Of the primates that assaulted your ever faithful droid, would Master be so kind as to save those few for my humble satisfaction?_

_Personal Comment: If you Meatbags did not have such weak and sensitive listening device, I assure you none of this would have occurred. Late Amendment: Of course Master does not suffer from such imperfections…_

_Awaiting further orders,_

_HK, Correction: '47 ways to be happy'._

_End of report, beginning encryption.

* * *

_

_Surface of Dxun. Somewhere along the moon's northern pole. Mandalorian entrenchment. Winter in the Galactic standard Calendar. 3. 962 years before the Battle of Yavin. 02:12 Onderon's Standard Time._

**(Day 6)**

**(From the personal recordings of Erich Fett)**

_I'm bloody freezing… Well, at least the cold keeps me awake all through the night shift. Curse this wretched moon and all its beasts! How did it come to this? I have several men no longer proud of being Mandalorians… Well, can I really blame them?_

_We should have stridden across the halls of the Royal Palace of Iziz! Instead, we now drag ourselves through the mud of a forest moon… We came as conquerors. We'll most likely leave as casualties…_

_Damn Ordo and his plans! To concentrate all of our forces and send them against Revan in one major battle… By the Gods, how could the man be so stupid?_

_Sigh… I cannot surrender myself into hatred so easily… I have nothing but respect for Ordo as a warrior, but when it comes to being a strategic leader the man had proven again and again he simply isn't apt to lead the fleet._

_The Mandalorians need a new leader._

_Perfect timing, a comet passing in the distance… Time to behave like a child and make a wish, hee hee… Strange… Another com… There goes another one… Where are those damned goggles? Here._

_A pair of bright lights… Several pairs… Photon engines!_

_By the angle of their descent they'll arrive right on top of us. Damn you, Revan… Ha, you have balls, little monk… You have balls… Time to face the Vorm, the treacherous Clan…_

_Well, at least they follow a worthy leader…_

_They are honorable, and they'll die the most honorable way: Slowly and painfully._

_Sigh… Half my men are asleep on their watch… Well, time to wake the ladies up. Don't worry boys, I'll be gentle…

* * *

_

"Wake up you bunch of babies!" Erich shouted, bashing his armored hand against his chest plate. "There's no time to loose, the monks are coming! Jon, I swear, if you don't get your ass up right now you'll be the unit's 'entertainment' until your friends grow tired of you!"

The unit leader looked up. Now, one could see clearly thousands and thousands of small, light blue dots, in wedge formation, descending upon Dxun with the impetus of an Ice-hound, native of Rhen Var.

"Man the turrets, load your guns! At my command, blast those little noblemen and their bathrobes into the oblivion!"

Thousands of Mandalorians were mobilized; dozens of gun turrets were manned. The Republic forces continued their sharp and violent descent, unshaken by the few warning shots fired from above the Fett command center.

"Turrets! Pick your targets and open fire!" Erich shouted, lost to the outside world. If someone, now, had told him his wife, still in distant Malachor, had given birth, he'd order them to shut up and grab a rifle.

Thousands of golden lines crossed the evening sky, illuminating the muddy fields beneath them with light that promised both glory and death.

Erich Fett whispered a quiet prayer…

His ears pounded with the violent sound of dozens of .40 caliber repeating cannon unleashing their hell upon the approaching shuttles.

Then, all hell broke loose…

* * *

**(02:56 AM)**

Revan smiled triumphantly.

Even in the far distance of the republic transport's cockpit, the knight could see dozens of small fireballs erupting from several different areas of the Fett stronghold. The permacrete charges HK had planted were more than enough to cripple, at least partially, the Mandalorian defenses.

Getting up from his seat, he pressed a small button on the left side of his black mask.

"Alert to all Jedi…" The General said, letting the mechanical tone of his filtered voice echo across every transport in the Republic strike force. "Prepare to engage. The ships will fly by the stronghold, firing their charges while we jump onto the trenches. The approximate time frame between our landing and the Regulars' is ten minutes. Until then, we'll hold ourselves together, and teach these Mandalorians what it means to be afraid…"

He pressed the button again before he could hear the cheers coming from his fellow Jedi. Revan was not one to have a positive attitude on matters, and his men's overconfident cries resembled too much a death sentence to the knight.

"Sir, we're two minutes from the target." The pilot of his ship said, turning to gaze the faceless expression of Revan's mask. "When we reach the thirty seconds mark we'll release our ordinance. You and the missiles, sir…"

At that the General couldn't help but chuckle.

'_A class clown will most likely be considered a bad element by a professor and a Master. But where they see only defiance, I see leadership… A class will always follow a clown to the deepest dungeons of Korriban if properly manipulated. Never forget: a jester can become an Emperor…'_

"Zhar, you old hag…" The knight murmured thoughtfully. "You should be here, by my side, Master and Apprentice."

"Sir?" The pilot said, in doubt.

"Don't worry, my friend…" Revan said, laying a comforting hand on the soldier's shoulder. "Just grumbling about old memories…"

"Yes, sir…" Revan noticed a slight change in the pilot's morale. Like the most insignificant action such as a slight tap on his back had boosted the Lieutenant's confidence in a way the most firebrand senatorial speech could never come close to…

'_How easy legends are forged…'_

"Sir…"

"Yes, Lieutenant… What is it?"

"We've reached the point in which the enemy gun turrets can actually become quite dangerous. I suggest you get ready, sir..."

"Very well… I'll be in the back. Signal me when we're flying by the southern trenches."

"Yes, sir… Brace yourself, General… This will be a rough ride…"

As if waiting for the Lieutenant to finish his sentence, the ship began to rock violently in all directions. Dozens of small fireballs appeared before the cockpit window, hitting the transport's shields.

"I want deflector shields, maximum strength at front!"

And then the blast doors were shut soundly behind Revan, and no sounds were heard through it.

* * *

**(03:07 AM)**

Revan Stormrider didn't bother to jump out of the transport. Simply letting his bodyweight move him forward, the knight felt a strange sense of peace as he plunged out of the republic ship two hundred meters away from the ground.

He would much rather not be completely covered in a suit of armor, as he could personally attest that very little in life compared to the thrill of feeling the killer gush of wind from a freefall directly against your face.

100 meters…

For the first time since he left the ship, Revan opened his eyes.

There it was, clearly: Dozens of darkened lines between endless fields of muddy grass… The first line of entrenchment was before him.

Igniting his crimson blade, the knight concentrated in the Force around him, making his fall softer by the second. Within a few seconds, Revan's feet calmly touched a puddle of mud outside the entrenchments. He heard several cries of alert. The Mandalorians had noticed his presence… It would not be long before they opened fire against the lonely knight.

When that moment finally came, the Mandalorians hit nothing but air…

Revan's form was closer to a blur, as he used the force to increase his speed into levels unknown even to himself. Uselessly, the Mandalorians continued to aim at the blurry form of the Republic General; a task already difficult considering Revan's black armor was close to impossible to notice in the evening sky.

The same armor that made Revan's movements seem like those of a silent crimson blade, flowing lonely within the night's heavy atmosphere…

When the killer blade finally reached the Mandalorian entrenchments, the enemy's spirit had already been broken.

One by one, warriors fell to the blood-red saber of the Jedi 'reaper', a faceless assassin that slaughtered whole squadrons of men before vanishing into the night, leaving only a small trace of scarlet light reflected on his victims' nervous sweat.

The Republic troopships seemed to appear out of nothing, dropping their contingency of Daggers, Mandalorians and Regulars. Completely encircling the frightened and unorganized enemy, the Republic did not take long to completely wipe out all traces of the Fett Clan within the southern trenches.

But it was not over…

Revan tensed as he heard the news through the communicator on his mask.

Somewhere in the eastern flank, the Mandalorians fought back…

* * *

**(03:34 AM)**

"Come on, poster boys! Is this all you got!" Erich screamed to the retreating Republic troopers.

The initial attack of the Jedi was a surprise, he admitted. But the moment the Fett commander had beheaded a knight with his Mandalorian greatsword his boys became fearless.

In a quick move, Erich and his men retreated slightly, while hitting the Republic's right side. Catching the enemy soldiers unprepared, Fett swept over the battlefield in one large Battle-cry.

The Republic officer tried his best to counter the situation, packing his men tightly in one of the Mandalorians' foremost trenches, waiting for reinforcements he was sure to arrive.

The Mandalorian commander did not wait. Leading his men in a furious frontal assault, Erich hacked his way through the field between the trenches. Confused and unorganized, the Republic officers ordered their troops to retreat into the jungles of Dxun, and the rabid beasts' jaws…

"Cease fire! Let them go, save your ammo!" The commander's voice was filled with the excitement of the battle fought. Grinning widely behind his mask, Fett continued. "Let the beasts bite their asses all the way to Coruscant!"

The troopers laughed in disdain. Cowardice was, indeed, a true abomination to a Mandalorian…

"Spread out, boys!" Erich raised his hand as to draw attention to himself. "Expect a flanking job from one of the other wings of the stronghold. I'm guessing the other commanders weren't as fortunate as us…"

The Mandalorians shared the anxiety and enthusiasm of their leader, and immediately assumed their positions on each and every strategic corner of the eastern trenches. Manning repeating-blasters, the Mandalorians seemed ready for anything…

* * *

**(03:54 AM)**

Revan was in a state of pure contentment. Finally, a Mandalorian commander had proven to be an excellent strategist and fine leader…

This time, the knight felt he needed to be extra careful as to avoid any surprises from either flanks, as the unfortunate Republic commander had the bad luck of witnessing it firsthand.

With the exception of a few of the squadron's best Daggers, Revan left behind his strike force, favoring the fresh reinforcement he had received from Admiral Karath just five minutes ago.

The General now rushed past a dark grove in Dxun. Between each of the four wings of the entrenchment, stood a forest, with all its share of beasts and hardships… However, Revan was not afraid…

He rode unchallenged the entire length of the grove on top of his monstrous Boma beast, lightsaber at hand…

For once, he was glad to have listened to Master Kreia. Her little 'class' about animal communication prior to the battle would prove to be priceless in the forthcoming conflict.

The psychological effect would alone compensate for the time spent hearing lecture after lecture. Crimson saber, monstrous beast, terrifying-looking armor… Revan was the very representation of death…

Revan's Boma beast stormed out of the woods with a frightening howl. The knight could see the Mandalorians edginess in their positions, yet no shots were fired.

The discipline of such troops was enough to add a sentiment of doubt in the General's heart. He strengthened the grip of his lightsaber, as to increase his determination. He would not pull back. He would break the Mandalorian line that very moment, or death would take away its most loyal reaper…

The first shots were fired… It rained ion shells upon the Republic General.

His Boma beast stood up, deeply wounded. When its limp body had reached the ground, there was no trace of General Revan…

* * *

**(04:02 AM)**

"Where is he?"

Mandalorians whispered amongst themselves. Now, more than ever, Revan seemed like a mythical figure to the warriors inside the trenches. Their insecurity had given room to baseless rumors…

'_Revan had vanished in a black cloud…'_

'_Revan had jumped a kilometer up in the air and fell right on top of the stronghold's main area…'_

'_Revan had never been there. It was only our worked up imaginations…'_

As all wise commanders, Erich Fett knew the impacts of having his soldiers spend more time thinking about their own enemy than the orders of his sire.

"He flees!" He shouted, drawing the attention of his soldiers. "Where is this General everyone speaks so highly of?"

As if waiting for that particular moment to leave the safety from atop one of the Anti-Aircraft turrets, General Revan Stormrider fell into the mass of unsuspecting Mandalorians.

There were no cries of warning. There were plenty, of despair…

Distracted by the commotion deep within their lines, the Mandalorians did not even notice the silent arrival of Revan's Daggers on the borders of the Dxunian woods. They reached the first trenched unnoticed and unchallenged, as the sound of their shots were muffled by those of the Mandalorians fighting Revan.

"Get to your posts, you damned idiots! I'll handle him!" The Fett commander had noticed the unit's arrival the moment it had reached the first entrenchment; and since then, had desperately tried to put his men back into the fight.

He knew there was only one way to achieve this… He had to face Revan.

Raindrops fell soundly as Erich strode across the muddy trenches .And there he was: At a cross between paths, stood General Revan. A true colossus, the knight stood proudly awaiting his next challenge. Besides him, a pile of Mandalorian corpses outlined a full circle no soldier dared enter anymore. Fett needed to change that…

He entered such area boldly, without fear…

Revan was a menacing figure. Smoke came up from his crimson saber, as raindrops relentlessly reached its laser blade. His emotionless masked face emitted an air of indifference that irritated the young Mandalorian's every nerve.

If the Mandalorian intel was right, this was nothing more than a twenty year old boy. Younger than Erich himself! Yet soldiers twice his age now shook in fear and anticipation while waiting beyond the 'improvised arena'.

Erich raised his greatsword in defiance. A move matched by the Republican General, as his blade soundly hissed, while evaporating every raindrop on its way. They stood there for what it seemed like hours, awaiting for someone to make the first move. The Daggers had stopped firing, noticing the situation their General was at.

The only sounds heard in the battlefield were those of the raindrops, hitting the muddy ground.

A thunder scorched its way down to the forest moon.

When its blinding light had faded, the two commanders were already locked on a fierce duel. What advantage Erich had in strength, it was more than compensated by Revan's speed and strategic planning.

The knight parried every move the Mandalorian made, evading each strike with a set of twists and rolls that caused the young Fett to become both unbalanced and confused.

Revan's soaking wet cape launched out of his extended arm like a snake, enthralling the Mandalorian's right arm. With a yank, the young knight brought Erich's greatsword to his left hand, swirling it around as to feel its weight.

"Had enough?" Revan's voice was filled with excitement. Even though masked, the Mandalorians could feel the knight's pleased grin. The young general twirled the sword in his open palm, making the hilt point towards Erich. "Or do you want another round?"

Where one could see arrogance in such act, the Mandalorians saw only passion… A passion for the art of combat that could very well surpass their own! Shaking his head, the Mandalorian commander declined the offer.

Revan plunged the sword deeply into the wet ground, as he extended his left hand for the Fett commander.

"You proved to be quite a challenge. Care to continue to do so?"

"Excuse me?" Erich said, suspiciously.

"I'll let you and your men go, to reinforce the Mandalorian center…" Revan talked about the war issues as lightly as one discusses the weather. "The other wings have already penetrated the stronghold. Your fortress is lost, our beachhead is gained. Such is the way of war. I'm offering you a chance to flee to the equatorial regions. Go there, get yourself a command and meet me in battle again. That's the condition. Face me again, when you're better prepared. Do we have a deal?"

"What makes you sure I'll get a command?" The Mandalorian breathed soundly, releasing a white smoke every time he exhaled. "The Fett clan isn't quite full of prestige, right now."

"Now, now…" He said, laying a hand in the Mandalorian's shoulder. "You can't expect me to fix all your problems, can you?" His voice was deep, filled with familiarity "Solve that problem, yourself."

"You'll regret this decision. You know that, right?"

"Only if you don't make it worth it…"

At that, Erich couldn't contain his laughter. He extended his own arm, enveloping Revan's in a sign of true friendship.

"Alright little monk, we'll do as you ask. Though if I were you, I'd watch out… This beachhead is still fragile. The full power of the Mandalorian presence in this moon could sweep you off before you get a chance to bring in reinforcements."

"That's why Malak's attacking the Mhizarr fortress and its surroundings in the southern pole as we speak. And why I have commanders attacking a few fortresses surrounding this one. If the Mandalorian's employ…" He then made his voice become magnified, giving it a grave tone. "THEIR FULL MIGHT they'll leave a window open. And I don't think even your current Mandalore is that stupid…"

"Very well…" Erich said, in a tone in which it was impossible to determine if he meant that or was simply being sarcastic. "I guess it is my time to head south, then… I'll meet you in a few weeks, I suppose."

"Let's hope so…" Revan said, filled with enthusiasm. "Don't worry about my men. I'll pass on the news. You'll have free pass until you reach the Tyr stronghold."

Without another word, the surviving members of the Fett Clan left the northern stronghold. Revan smiled beneath his mask, as he felt he had gained both a worthy friend and foe. Who knows what path Erich might take? One day, if fate wills it so, both men will meet again, as Mandalore against Emperor.

'_Emperor?' _Revan asked himself worriedly. _'Where did that come from?'_

TBC

* * *

**Author's notes: A reasonably short chapter, focused on combat.**

**This was but a bridge to the next phase of combat, deep within the jungles of Dxun. I think this is good enough, though…**

**Sorry for the long wait. Work's been hell.**

**I know Bastila and Malak aren't quite as focused on this fic as they should be. They will be, don't worry. Since this is just a bridge, Bastila didn't use her Battle Meditation, and Malak's role was merely a mention.**

**Thanks to Bald as Malak for some great advices and thank you all for the great reviews.**

**Brazilian Sith Lord**


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: Knights of the Old Republic and all of its characters belong to LucasArts, Bioware and Obsidian

**Chapter 9 – Nameless Diaries**

**(Day 15)**

_Hell… This is what this damned moon feels like, hell._

_Our unit's been scouting the perimeters of the Tyr stronghold for the past ten days, and Revan has yet to leave his newly fortified Fett stronghold._

_There is a rumor, in camp, that Revan's next assault will occur in our vector… That means that any minute now, we'll be hearing the deafening sound of the Mammoth Tanks making way through the trees, preparing a path to our General's forces._

_That should lift the morale of our platoon, as now we couldn't care less if we're killed or not…_

_Forrest moon should be a nickname… This is a bloody swamp._

_Half our men are ill… Most from diseases our doctors have never seen before. Every day or two Revan sends a medical staff to 'sanitize' the camp, and to gather blood samples from all of our sick soldiers, as to develop some sort of vaccine for this damned nightmare…_

_Arrg, crap… I have to go… There's some kind of commotion in the camp, I'll have to see what's going on. I'll keep on recording this when I get a break…

* * *

_

**(Day 18)**

_Revan's tanks arrived the day after my last entry. Damn, those things are big!_

_The camp is in a state of constant preparation. The rumors were right, Revan's target is the Tyr stronghold. The General himself is here, personally overseeing the pre-ops!_

_Revan… I never thought I'd actually see him in person, and there he was…_

_Well, at least I think it's him…_

_You see, none of us have actually seen his face! Ah, well, Dogbert says he served with him in the beginning of the war, but he's constantly drunk, so we don't really know…_

_If you trust a drunken man's report, Revan is young. But I mean REALLY young… like twenty or something like that, but his brain keener that a Jedi Master's! Every night a small crowd gathers around Dogbert to listen to his stories, and some of them are about Revan's early skirmishes with the Mandalorians in the Outer Rim. How he'd lead fighter squadrons from behind a moon, only to retreat to an asteroid field, where none of the Mandalorian heavier cruiser commanders would be dumb enough to enter. How he'd blown up an entire gas-producing asteroid station, taking out half of a Mandalorian fleet…_

_Things you only see in the holo-movies… Yet we believe in every word Dogbert speaks. Revan has proven again and again he is perfectly capable of amazing deeds such as those of the stories…_

_And now there's even his girlfriend, or fiancé, or whatever she is… I heard him say it was her merit we won over Dxun. I really don't understand this 'Battle Mediation' or whatever the name of this damned thing is, but if it was able to bring us such advantage as to defeat a Mandalorian force twice our size I'm praying that she stays with our forces 'till the end of the war…_

_The end of the War… It really doesn't seem that far off, right now, with Mandalore himself pinned down in this tiny moon._

_Heck, I shouldn't be so sure of myself so soon in the battle… I heard Malak's forces are on the verge of lifting camp in the south. Dogbert says they're trying to make Revan travel there to aid Malak in leading the troops, leaving the northern front open and leaderless…_

_Dogbert… I'm really starting to like the 'Old Dog'… Hah, that's his nickname, you know? Dogbert the old dog… Of course you don't know… You're just a recording machine._

_Well, getting back to the war, Revan hasn't fallen for that trap, and is countering it! How? He's attacking._

_Simple, eh?_

_If they keep the pressure on Malak, they'll expose themselves in the northern flank, and Revan will just roll over them with his Mammoths… So he's attacking a critical stronghold of theirs, the Tyr Clan's, as some sort of 'I'm here, you know!' signal…_

_The Tyrs are Mandalorian engineers. So we're expecting a not so much hand-to-hand fight, but a hand-to-every-gadget-eve-invented-by-those-idiots kind of fight and Revan's prepared for it._

_Our recent scouting assignments have been quite easily done, as every single one of Revan's Daggers is standing atop the trees in the outskirts of the camp. The only trouble we have is dodging Mandalorian corpses, an assignment we actually perform with a bit of sadistic pleasure… Weird, huh?_

_Even though we've done scouts for almost a week, only yesterday we actually caught a glimpse of the Mandalorian stronghold._

_Damn, that thing was big…_

_Not tall. Only three or four floors, perhaps… But wide… Only the elaborate trenches, electrical fences and steel bunkers system must be over a kilometer long. Atop the main structure, a huge octagon shaped steel fortress, hundreds of anti-air batteries, ranging from missiles to laser shots._

_Another fact worth mentioning: The fortress had but one angle of approach, the northern one. _

_Why? Because every other angle borders a two kilometers deep, one kilometer wide canyon, plunging right into an underground stream of water._

_Now, I always felt like the scouts we made were up a hill, now I know why…_

_Summing up: The fortress seemed indestructible._

_We can only wait and see. We trust Revan. He'll bring us victory in the end, but after seeing our target, I'm reluctant to admit it'll be a tough bone to break.

* * *

_

**(Day 25)**

_I can barely believe it… I'm narrating this from inside the stronghold! We've taken it over not an hour ago!_

_I'll try to narrate the events as faithfully as I can, but I may overlook some details… Let's see…_

_The day after my last entry, Revan moved some weird box-shaped armored transports to the woods bordering the Mandalorian stronghold, with the tanks following soon after. The Daggers and Mandalorian regulars positioned themselves behind the mecs, while the Republic soldiers handled the flanks and rear, securing the supply lines._

_Beyond all conventional warfare traditions, Revan ordered the transports to advance first. He dismissed the protests of the Republic seniors, who were calling him a madman and a traitor… Ha, they'd keep their mouths shut, eventually…_

_The Mandalorians took no time to open fire on the transports, but the Mandametal shells held on. Mandametal! Within minutes, they reached the first lines of defense. You'd expect them to halt their advance and unload a crew of experts, right?_

_Wrong! They didn't even slow down! They just stormed through electrified fences and trenches as if they weren't even there! When the transports reached a certain point, reasonably deep inside the trenches, they blew up! Not from the shots they received, but from a truckload of permacrete charges inside each of them!_

_Dozens of huge columns of smoke crossed the skies… We were all ecstatic!_

_Then came the time for the Mammoths to do their work… The huge mechanical beasts advanced fearlessly through the fields, firing their ion shells upon the Mandalorian bunkers._

_Being the engineers they were, the Tyrs were also ready for Revan, and thousands of metal thorns, over two meters long, surfaced in the field halting the tanks' advance._

_Dozens of Mandalorians, armed with rocket launchers, left the trenches and fired upon the Mammoths, now on organized retreat._

_The huge Centaurs, decisive on the Battle of Peleus Prime, opened fire from the forest border, both covering the Mammoths' retreat and taking out several of the metal thorns._

_Revan ordered a platoon of engineers forward, to scout the terrain ahead for possible traps, most likely mines, both trip-wired and underground, all under the cover fire of the Centaurs._

_The Mandalorians countered that, by sending a sortie of fighters against the reasonably coverless Centaurs. The few Talos suits present at the camp fired upon that attack, but were unable to stop the Mandalorian Basilisks from taking out a couple of Mechs._

_So far, this bunch of engineers has given us more trouble than the entire Clan Armada put together, I remember thinking while I watched Revan's Mammoths move forward for a second time, behind the anti-mines unit._

_After a few hours of this stalemate the first few immense red 'comets' or something like that began to fall from the sky. Dogbert murmured something at my left, which I later found out to be 'orbital bombing'… _

_Slowly and painfully, the AA batteries atop the stronghold were being destroyed in a massive bombardment! I should have known something like that was coming… For at least half an hour I watched as Revan's fighters circled the battlefield, taking care as to keep out of range from those beasts and their missiles._

_That didn't keep them from trying, though… Another wave of Basilisks came out of the stronghold. And another one, after that… As soon as one of our fighters approached them to intercept, a missile was fired from the fortress, locking onto the Basilisk and destroying both ships._

_But Revan was no fool. He brought all of the Talos and Cerberus he had, arming them with Machine guns (Talos) and AA missile launchers (Cerberus). It didn't take long before the Mandalorians found out fighter attacks had become useless. It didn't take long for them to think of a new strategy._

_Now, just to clear things up, so far I think there were three days into the battle… I'm not sure… Well, that's not really important._

_While all those fighters were being blown up, the engineers of the Republic army had reached halfway across the field, all under cover of both Mammoth and Centaur units. _

_Against all odds, the Mandalorians began to attack. Big, quadruped walkers came out from hidden blast doors beneath the ground just in front of the first trenches, heading for the engineer units._

_Those smartly hid behind the Mammoths, who did their second (I think) retreat of the battle, while the Talos and Cerberus moved forward, to counter the threat._

_Now, the republic troops didn't sit in their asses all that time and waited for what was going to happen. From the time the engineers began scouting the terrain we began to dig our own set of trenches and small, improvised fortifications._

_By the time of the assault, the trenches were near completion, and of the hundreds of Mandalorians that charged on the cover of the walkers, very few survived the laser projectiles of the Daggers' sniper rifles._

_As the engineers retreated, the Mammoths halted their backwards movement just as the Talos and Cerberus approached, forming an improvised line of containment._

_A sortie of V-shaped fighters soon dealt with the Mandalorian offensive, leaving the whole field at the disposal of the Republic._

_Revan ordered an apparent all-out offensive, in which the mechs already at the field moved slowly forward, as the Mandalorian regulars rushed in their tracks._

_The orbital bombing was intensified. Now, very little of the AA complex so frightening at first was left standing._

_Fighters and bombers relentlessly punished the Mandalorian positions. Half their bunkers laid in ruins, and the other half wasn't far from it._

_Part of the main structure's north wall caved in. Victory was near, we felt. We were wrong._

_Fortunately for those Mandalorians on the first line of the attack, Revan foresaw a trap. That intuition would save thousands of lives, as the Mammoths were ordered to roll over the entrenchments, instead of the initial order, to the Mandalorian regulars._

_The moment the caterpillar tracks of the first tanks reached the front entrenchments, the whole defensive complex lit up in a huge fireball. Taking out half of the initial attack's Mammoth contingency._

_From the ashes of the Mandalorian defenses, hundreds, no, thousands of Tyr soldiers, clad in their purple armors, charged forward in the chaos of the explosion, facing Revan's soldiers in close combat._

_It was then our General rose to meet the challenge. It was then we heard the cries of the Boma beasts…_

_I remember thinking 'So that was what Revan was doing all that time in the stronghold…'_

_Cavalry 302nd unit. Revan's beast riders… He knew full well how much the mechs he currently had lacked maneuverability, so, to deal with the problem, he hired a couple of dozen beast riders from Onderon, to train his men, mostly Daggers and Republic special ops, in riding the Boma, the most fearsome monster in Onderon._

_That was the term Colonel Lucius used. Dogbert sworn he heard Revan comment: 'Well, other than Master Kreia…' or something like that._

_Back to the battle… Revan and his Jedi rode towards the fight, sweeping the battlefield with relative ease, as even though determined, the Mandalorians still lacked the power of leadership and intimidation. And those, Revan, clad in his black armor, had to spare…_

_Then, I'm afraid, the battle went indoors, Revan being the first into the opening on the stronghold's wall, and since I'm only a scout I wasn't really involved in the fight, so I can't describe it._

_What I do know, however, is that this was a significant victory for our troops. The Mandalorians, without their engineers and repair men (and two thousand gallons of fuel, discovered in an underground reserve, ready to be blown up) their war effort is hindered, and victory is truly within our reach!_

_Well, I better get some sleep. Tomorrow we begin to repair this junk heap, and I need all my strengths to perform that!_

_I'll get back to this when I can…

* * *

_

**(Day 57)**

_The war is going great. Ironic statement, eh?_

_Well, it is going great. Malak's been able to hold on for long enough to Lord Yusanis, of the Echani, to bring in his 'personal army' of followers. The old (older than me at least) weapons-master's presence was enough to re-balance the odds in the south._

_Whoever is leading this Mandalorian offensive down there is certainly smart enough to know it is easier to attack the weakest link. But since Malak isn't really the weakest link anymore, if there is one, that leader has been concentrated in reinforcing the Mandalorian center, and by the Force he's done a very good job at it._

_Look, there is no doubt, even to the Mandalorians, that this is just a matter of time. The problem is, time is something they have (being entrenched and all) and something we don't. Last week Revan was forced off-planet to counter a Mandalorian armada trying to lift the siege and the only thing that stopped them from succeeding was Revan's girl, Bastila's, Battle Meditation._

_I still have no idea what the hell is that crap, but it sure is powerful._

_Well, let's see. Our current status…_

_Revan's back on the moon's surface, after making sure both Bastila and Admiral Karath were working harmoniously, and he's leading our advance personally. Last knight, we caught a glimpse of him and his monstrous Boma beast, ironically named Caton. He was an intimidating figure, overlooking our slow advance while holding his crimson saber._

_Slow advance… Yep. Slow. At the begging we were advancing ten miles a day, but I guess Revan got tired of a good portion of his forces being isolated, entrapped and killed, so now we walk barely three miles a day, creating trenches on both lunch and sleep rests._

_The caterpillar tracks of the Mammoths never stop moving. They carve the improvised supply roads from stronghold to stronghold. You heard me, from stronghold to stronghold._

_We have several, now. Even though some are more watch posts than fortresses, our supply structure in Dxun has improved immensely! The illness I spoke of, we found a vaccine inside the Tyr laboratories! No Republic soldiers have been killed in almost a week!_

_I should feel reassured, but I don't…_

_I, as well as Dogbert, and, I'm sure, Revan, know full well this void left between Mandalorian fortresses means the first opposing force we encounter will be one well armed and prepared._

_They are concentrating to resist an attack at both fronts. An attack Revan's been avoiding to make until reinforcements come. An attack that if flawed, risks turning into a crushing defeat for the Republic forces._

_Arrg, I can't be so negative. I got promoted! Yep, full sergeant and leader of a whole platoon of men. Revan himself gave me the silver triple stripe with a skull above it. Yep, a skull above it! Special ops!_

_Gramps will be really proud of me. He was special ops in the war against Exar Kun, so to see his grandson a sergeant of the Senate's army, and a special operative… Just hang on there gramps, you'll live to see me reaching officer's rank by the end of this war. I promise you that!_

_Well, that's it for now. I'll record again when something interesting comes around…

* * *

_

**(Day 62)**

_Over two months in this battle. Strange how we all know time goes by slower in this place, yet it feels like yesterday when we came to this moon._

_Dxun… We cursed it, at first, but now we're kind of used to this bloody oversized garden…_

_We're getting closer to the Mandalorian core, a complex of thousands of trenches, strongholds, watch-posts, and AA batteries._

_How do we know we're getting closer? Our numbers are dropping, that's how…_

_The mood in the unit's light, though, as the reinforcements from the Mid-rim recruitments have arrived, and are on the process of docking and landing. Within three days their full numbers should be on this moon, given necessary redistributions on the Armada above Dxun._

_Three hundred thousand souls, twenty thousand mechs and fifty new airborne squadrons… I don't like to be self assured, but there's really no stopping us now…_

_Malak began to move from his position a week after my last recording. Apparently he has 'admitted' that strategy and numbers just aren't his 'thing', so Yusanis is overseeing the supply lines and flanking operations, while Malak gets to lead his 'death squad', or the Hammers (I know, jealousy is a bitch…) all through the jungles of Dxun._

_Not that any of us is complaining. They've done a damned good job! Malak himself is said to have slain over three hundred Mandalorians from the beginning of the battle to this day! His blue saber is being just as feared as Revan's crimson one!_

_So far, the Fett, the Mhizarr, the Finns, the Sixans, the Jannus, the Chrusers, and the Korthos have all been subdued. A last alliance of Ordo, Atrurius, Drikkanus, Masamun and Pylox remain, in the center of the planet._

_We know now the name of the commander that so brilliantly held us back long enough for their fortress complex to be ready. His name is Erich Fett, leader of the Fett remnants and 'commander in facto' of the Mandalorian forces._

_Ordo, now, is nothing but a centering figure. _

_Strangely enough, we do not feel resentful of Revan. We fought well, we fought justly, we fought honorably. We lost our dependence of his leadership skills. Don't get me wrong, he's still the center piece of our military, but now his presence isn't completely vital to a battle, as several of our young officers have led small skirmishes successfully._

_He made an army out of us. Through the hardship of Dxun, Revan's army became Revan's family. We're no longer the Senate's army. That we know full well._

_If anything, we resent those senatorially appointed commanders that led so many of our friends and family to death over arrogance and ego._

_Revan taught us the valor of hard work. Revan taught us the value of honor._

_Without his leadership, without Malak's saber skills, without Bastila's Battle Meditation, without Serra Ors' inspiring presence, without the Jedi, we were nothing._

_The Jedi… Bastions of justice my ass!_

_You'd think there'd be at least one master down here, to oversee humanitarian and, why not, refugee concerns. NO! There has been no word but of criticism from the council. Force bless those brave enough to lead us. Sith curse those cowardice and power hungry enough to hide behind their peaceful ideals!_

_Arrg… I can't be like this. Not now… We're too close. The final battle is here. Dxun will fall within the next week, we're sure of that!_

_This thing will be massive. We expect six hundred THOUSAND Mandalorians against our eight hundred thousand, spread in two or three vectors of attack. Not to mention the orbital bombardment and fighter squadrons involved, over seven hundred from both sides of the struggle._

_This will be a battle to be remembered until the end of the Republic. Until the end of the universe, perhaps!_

_I speak for the rest of the squadron when I say I'm proud to be a part of this. Of all of this… _

_I have a small skirmish to lead. I'll be back in half an hour…

* * *

_

**_Dear Mrs.,_**

**_It is my unfortunate duty to inform you of the passing of your brave son. Take comfort in the fact that he is, now, one with the everlasting Force, and is part of the whole. _**

**_Let it be known that he died, as he lived, bravely. Your son led a skirmish near the north/central border of the Mandalorian main core. There, his unit was trapped by a whole platoon of Mandalorians, and your son intentionally placed himself in the path of the enemy to allow his friends to escape._**

**_If it brings comfort to your heart, your son was slain by Fett himself, and while being killed, he managed to deeply wound one of Fett's legs when already on the ground._**

**_Your son has been awarded the post mortem rank of First Lieutenant of the Republic Army's Special Operations. His salary and benefit listing, those of which you will receive monthly, until the time of your passing, follow annexed to this letter._**

**_Rest in the assurance that he did not die in vain. He died for justice, he died for honor, he died for an ideal we all believe in: Freedom._**

**_May the Force guide your soul in this time of trouble,_**

**_Revan Atrius Stormrider_**

**_Brigadier General of the Republic Armed Forces_

* * *

**

TBC

* * *

**Author's Notes: I pretty much think this chapter speaks for itself, no matter how short it is...**

**I would like to thank everyone that reviewed my last chapter. You help me more than you think…**

**Next week I face my first sequence of tests in college, so don't expect an update that soon (at the very least two weeks).**

**Again, thanks.**

**BSL**


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Knights of The Old Republic and all of its characters belong to LucasArts, Bioware and Obsidian

**Chapter 10 – The Last Shot**

**(Day 73)**

Revan sat still in the saddle of his Boma. Obediently, the beast stood steadily, as if waiting for the slightest of Revan's orders. A high cliff gave Revan the perfect overview of the battlefield before him. Cannons thundered in the distance as the battle for the core of Dxun raged on for the sixth day in a row.

The General felt a rush of adrenaline flow through every inch of his body. Most leaders dreamed of the moment they would enter the Senate chambers in Coruscant triumphantly, ready to receive the gratitude of the entire galaxy.

Revan did not.

At the age of twenty one (his latest birthday celebrated during the earlier stages of the current battle), Revan was the most prestigious leader in the Republic. He dreamed not of his future glories, but of his current hardships.

More than two weeks had passed since the young Jedi Knight last slept without strategy and numbers in his head. More than two weeks since the General had slept without his precious companion by his side.

Bastila… Indispensable for the war effort, vital for the General's very existence…

He was brought back from his thoughts by the approaching presence of his current second in command, Colonel Yorimaek.

"What is it, Lucius?"

"The 115th is faltering. The riverbank risks falling…"

"Take a few Daggers and place them on vantage points. Reinforce them with some repeating-blaster positions. Also send them a new load of ammunition. Make sure they have enough thermals to last the night."

"Yes, sir…"

"How are the other fronts?"

"Yusanis and Serra are advancing slowly, but without any heavy resistance."

"That may be a diversion, have a back up division stationed just before their advance…"

Lucius took note of it all, his fingers furiously tapping the datapad. When he was finished, he continued his report.

"Malak is on the front of his advance. The 'Hammers' are taking care of the flanks…"

"Have a few Jedi move to his sector… Is there any other weak point in my sector, other than the riverbed?"

"No, sir… All other conflict points are being rather easily handled by the regulars. The Mandalorian reserves are waiting your orders."

Revan rubbed his masked chin thoughtfully. He inhaled deeply. There was a time Revan's presence was needed to keep every conflict spot under control… He smiled beneath his mask. He had built a fearsome army out of raw recruits.

"Alert our Mandalorians, direct them to the riverbed. I want the engineers ready with the mobile bridge. Position the artillery, both ground and orbital. I'll want it to rain fire on their position when I give the order…" Revan took some time to regain his breath. "What kind of fortifications do they have?"

"About five bunkers, a dozen of trenches and a good twenty gun positions."

"Get the coordinates to each of those in perfect accuracy. Have two squadrons of bombers and one of fighters ready."

"So we'll flank nearby resistance?"

"No…" Revan's calm, yet deep tone of voice sent shivers in Lucius' spine. Less than a year ago, he was a vibrant young man, irresponsible, yet a great strategic mastermind. Now, behind such horrible mask, the Colonel wondered if the same man stood before him. It _had_ been over two months since the Republic officer had last seen Revan without his _new face_.

"If we move sideways we risk being outflanked and pressed against the river." Revan continued. "As soon as the other side of the river is taken order the engineers to make the mobile bridge a permanent one, made of concrete. I want an outpost on the other side of that crossing…"

"That will take some time, sir…"

"With the new mechanical suits? I want that outpost finished in two days."

"Sir, why do we need an outpost if we're planning on moving further into the Mandalorian Core?"

"Because in the end no sword or blaster will win the Battle of Dxun, Colonel…" He said, turning his beast around, prepared to join his men on the riverbed "Supply lines will… The Mandalorians are almost out of food and water. I want them far from any water or food source, including these riverbeds. I will not launch a full scale assault until then…"

* * *

**(Day 81)**

"Our situation worsens…"

Erich Fett seemed like a colossus in his silver and green armor. Even though the man was just over 1,90 meters, relatively short for a Mandalorian, the legend he had built around himself was enough to impose respect even to the only other man in the room with him: Mandalore.

"Revan has built dams in every river leading to the Mandalorian core. The men are sure there are underground streams, but the fuel we have is just enough to meet the needs of our supply transports, so to feed the drills with it is out of the question. We face a bit of dilemma, my lord… Either our men fight without ammunition, or without water."

Silence crept into the room, as Ordo pondered the situation before him. The old man looked battered. His face was as pale as a dead man's, his eyes red from sleepless nights. Fett understood the man's troubles. If Mandalore is captured and killed, especially in such a humiliating manner as this, the Mandalorians could very well say goodbye to any thought of continuing the War.

"Either we die or they kill us, is that it, General?"

"If I may be frank, sir… We can't stop them. We can delay their advance, but eventually they'll breach our lines and slaughter us all."

"A fleet may arrive… It can destroy their air support and…"

"My lord, with all due respect, no fleet will approach such a heavily fortified system such as Japrael. The ion guns of Onderon have been fixed and Revan's woman seems to have a special ability that has defeated us countless times before. And even if by some miracle the fleet succeeds to lay siege to Dxun, they still have the slight problem of fighting at least a hundred and fifty thousand well armed and fortified Republic soldiers, not to mention a strategic genius leading them. No sir, we can't count on any fleet…"

"Then please enlighten me with your knowledge, General Fett, and tell me the best course of action!"

"Please, sir… What has always been our greatest advantage in combat?"

Ordo did not need a second thought.

"Our speed. Every time we faced dragged out battles we lost them…"

"Indeed, sir. And since we all know these fortresses of ours are in reality adapted ships…"

"You say we should flee!"

"I say we should survive, sir… Our cause should survive, not by a plea with Revan, but by a fast escape through their blockade. It will not hurt our morale as long as we kill as many of these bastards as we can and jump towards Malachor…"

Ordo seemed to consider his alternatives. He was absolutely sure his men would die. He did, however, know the effects of a retreat to both his men and his cause. How it would look like to the Mandalorian people to see their leader run away from a battle, literally thrown out of the system by a man a third his age. He weighted his priorities, and came to a decision.

"How soon can you be ready?"

"A week. We need all the fuel we currently have and all the ammo as well if we plan on breaking that blockade…"

"Make the arrangements, General…" Ordo sighed heavily. "How are the troops going to fight without the supplies?"

"With our teeth if needed be, sir… With our teeth."

* * *

**(Day 83)**

Many believe a General's work is an easy one. 'Bossing around', the troops might say. The Mandalorian war is not one of formations and lines. If infantrymen lined up to face their enemy they would be hacked down by a repeating blaster. What is a General's duty? A General leads. Men claim they do all the fighting while the officers all sit comfortably in their chairs. The men are wrong.

If it weren't for tactical men selecting the less defended position, the best way to counter the enemy charge, how best to deploy the artillery, how would the infantry fight? At random? In such, the best individual wins, not the best collective. In such circumstances there are no armies fighting, only men, each trying to fulfill its own individual goals.

In the same way, officers alone do not make an army. A brain does not work without a spine and powerful fists, the same way powerful fists are useless without brains. But to build an army, one needs, above all, a heart. That is the mark of a true leader. One that understands the codependency of both officers and regulars, and manages to become something that is both above them, and within them. A man that leads from thousands of miles away is not a General. A true General faces the hardships of a battle alongside his men, encouraging them, yet never missing the tactical aspect of such conflicts. Those are the qualities of a true Hero. Those are the qualities of General Revan Stormrider.

The head of a yellow armored Mandalorian fell at the General's feet. Somewhere near him, a frag grenade exploded, its thousands of small metal projectiles spread around its vicinities, killing anything in their paths. The sun shone brightly above the young commander, the eighty third day of the Battle of Dxun seemed far from over.

The Mandalorians retreated from their original fortifications, a predictable strategy, the General thought, since their supply lines seemed not to be able to stretch themselves to the battlefront. However, Revan could not help but feel suspicious of such, as the warrior race has been famous for its strong sense of honor. There is no honor in retreat, the young Jedi thought; especially in the chaotic way the Mandalorians seemed to be executing it.

The General slashed sideways, beheading yet another Mandalorian, desperately covering his retreating brothers in arms. 'They're pulling us in…' Revan thought, surprising even himself with such realization 'They're leading us to a trap… They know if they retreat far enough into the core, we'll have to follow them, otherwise we'll find ourselves without any knowledge of the enemy's activities…'

Another frag grenade came down from the sky, fired from an artillery position miles away. It hit a group of Mandalorians, loading an ammo case into a small transport. Severed limbs flew into the air, and the smell of blood took over the battlefield. If you would call _that_ a battlefield…

For the past days, the Mandalorians have desperately tried to ensure that every single ammunition or fuel reserve would be brought to a small group of fortresses, deep within the center of the moon's surface. The Vipers, as they were call, since every one of them belonged to the Ordo Clan, were a dozen of triangular towers, joined together by a series of improvised walls made out of wood and sections of metal, from the wrecks of Mandalorian battleships, grounded after the orbital battle. They were the tactical center for the Mandalorian defense and would ultimately be the Mandalorians' last stand on Dxun.

The fortresses were still miles away from the front, yet Revan knew it was only a matter of time before this Mandalorian retreat led him towards the walls of the Vipers. There, he would once again face Erich Fett. The problem was, this time; the man has a force of over eighty thousand men at his command.

Then, neither the best soldiers nor the best officers would win, but the best army.

* * *

**(Day 87)**

Erich Fett gazed down from one of the Viper fortresses. Outside the walls' borders, the Republic army extended for countless miles. Thousands of small pyramid shaped tents lined up in perfect organization gave an outsider the false impression of calm in the moon's surface, as if the Vipers were nothing more than a small undeveloped village.

Fett noticed the Republic engineers, preparing for a quick job of setting permacrete charges in the fortresses wooden walls. The Mandalorian smiled beneath his battle helm. His 'organized chaotic retreat' had worked. None of the heavy, most precise, short ranged artillery could be found on any of the Republic positions. Revan thought the Mandalorians had prepared a trap for his troops. Revan was wrong.

The Republic General was right to presume the Mandalorian retreat to be a hoax, yet the reason of such hoax was not to lead his men into a trap, as the Mandalorians severely lacked the manpower to do so. Revan made his first known mistake: He allowed himself to advance without his heavier, least mobile artillery. If there was a trap, orbital and long distance bombardment could do just as much damage as one in short distance. But when the target was a fleeing battleship, what good did long ranged artillery do?

The preparations were nearly complete. Erich Fett grabbed his golden claymore and strode out of the room. He was a leader, and leaders commanded from the front.

* * *

Hundreds of engineers prepared for a final assault against the Mandalorian presence in Dxun. Their General needed only to lower his hand and a suicidal run would begin towards the enemy walls.

We find their General, Revan Stormrider, a few meters away from them, on a small cliff, observing the Mandalorian defenses with his binoculars. His enemy's strategy seemed limited to wait for his engineers to approach the walls, firing their repeating blasters at anything that would come within their range. And since a fast deployment by air was simply impossible considering the hundreds of gun turrets present in each of the Vipers, one could very well see the Mandalorian plan as simple as it was brilliant.

The only problem with such thought is that the engineers were far from the General's plan, a fact only known to himself and fifty of his men, manning dozens of Mammoth tanks, well hidden within the deep forest surrounding the Mandalorian stronghold.

To fully understand the General's diversion, one must know how the Mandalorians built their heavily enforced walls. They were, in fact, thousands of wooden logs taken early in the battle from the forests of Dxun in order to make room for the Mandalorian defenses. Now, an important note is that the trees of Dxun have existed for well over a thousand years, and their density was as similar as to the concrete walls of a standard military bunker. All those tree logs were packed closely together and held in place by several two meters thick steel columns, taken from the hulls of destroyed frigates, battleships and even fighters from the battle for the orbit of Onderon and Dxun alike.

Revan's plan was to use his vastly superior armored force to destroy those supporting beams, with a concentrated barrage aimed at only one of the walls' side. The wall would crumble; the Republic would storm in and take over the Vipers, one by one.

Both the Mandalorian and the Republic plans seemed efficient in their own simplicities. And since only one of such plans would actually work, it was left to fate to decide which would take the glory for Dxun.

With such things in mind, Revan signaled for his tanks to open fire.

* * *

A thundering sound took Erich Fett from his own troubling thoughts. The ground before him seemed to shake on its own foundations. He looked for any sign of the Republic engineers but those seemed just as surprised as he was, and remained at the exact same spot as they were ten minutes before.

He saw smoke coming from the bordering woods of the Republic encampments. Fett tightened the grip in his claymore, his angry tone apparent as he ordered his men down from the eastern walls. He had led Revan into making his first mistake. Revan had done the same with him.

"Bring the men down!" He spoke in an angry and slightly desperate tone "Bring me the men from the northern and southern walls and establish a perimeter around the fortresses! Not a single Republican must enter the Vipers!"

The eastern wall crumbled to its own unsupported weight. Since Fett had taken his men off the wall, no man was immediately killed. However, an unguarded wall was all the Republic engineers needed to set their charges at the base of such fortifications. Loud thunders echoed for the second time in that battle, as the Permacrete detonators did their jobs.

Log fragments flew in every direction, slaughtering countless Mandalorians. Where there was once a wall, the Republic Army now stood.

"Double lines!" Erich shouted over the chaos. Every first man of the Mandalorian forces kneeled, allowing for the first two men to gun down the approaching enemy.

The first man into the breach was not Revan, as Erich had predicted. Instead, the tall figure of General Malak carved his way into the Mandalorian formation, followed closely by his elite squadron, the 'Hammers', and an impressively large number of Jedi. Most shots fired from the Mandalorian lines were lost harmlessly to a saber's blade.

"Form square! Form square!" The Mandalorian commander observed as his men packed themselves in neatly organized squares, practically nullifying the Jedi presence, while providing a colossal obstacle to the Republic's now slow paced advance. Bullets flew from those formations, as the Republic soldiers were suddenly found struggling for their own lives.

It was then a horn was sounded. It was then the cheers erupted. It was then Revan appeared on the field.

Using his Daggers' cloaking device, the General had approached the western border of the Stronghold and took its walls by assault. Dozens of Mandalorians were killed before they realized what had happened. With most of the enemy's effort concentrated on the eastern wall, Revan had time to bring his engineers to the west, and make a second breach in the Mandalorian defenses.

Erich cursed as he saw he seemed only to be fighting the light infantry of the Republic army. Behind Revan, dozens of armored suits and tanks pressed onto the Mandalorian formations, killing by the dozens. Even with a two to one disadvantage, his men sold their lives dearly; and, for a while, for every Mandalorian killed two Republic soldiers fell.

It was then Erich noticed Revan standing right in front of him, raising his crimson saber in a silent challenge.

The Mandalorian needed not a second thought; he charged at the Republic General, gripping his claymore with his two hands. Revan swung his own blade around him a few times in anticipation. If without their masks, one would notice both men to be smiling.

Despite the claymore's considerable length and weight, Erich was able to move as fast as the young officer before him, and soon both men found themselves locked in a fierce duel, with neither of them showing signs of exhaustion.

Now, as the duel went on, one would expect to see a nearly butchered Mandalorian force, as tanks and armored suits crushed their way through their enemy's lines. However, since every Viper was in reality a battleship, hundreds of gun turrets were providing quite a challenge for the Republic advance. Unfortunately for the Mandalorians, Revan had predicted such difficulty, and had found an efficient way to counter it. If a soldier looked upwards, he would notice the approaching silhouette of a fighter squadron, led by former Padawan Serra Ors.

It crossed the battlefield quickly enough not to be hit by a single turret, yet slow enough to bombard the easternmost battleships with countless torpedoes and ion bombs. Several turrets became nothing but burned shell, as dozens of others disappeared all together, leaving enormous holes at the Vipers' outer walls.

Focusing back at the dueling heroes, Revan had begun to push his opponent backwards, as he had changed his fighting tactics. Instead of the usual slash a saber was used to, the General had started a series of piercing thrusts, calculating the enormous difficulty for a man to swing a claymore in the direction of the thrust. The tactic had worked and, however Erich's defense remained perfect, his opponent began to show signs of tiredness.

It was then, to the surprise of both Generals, three Mandalorians jumped Revan, fiercely attacking the Republic Commander and at the same time leaving an indignant Mandalorian behind.

"What nonsense is this?" Erich was profoundly irritated at his men's behavior "This man is my opponent, remove yourselves from his way!"

"My lord…" The Mandalorian Commander turned around to find a short Lieutenant, touching his shoulder. "Mandalore calls, the preparations are ready."

Erich gritted his teeth. Revan had already killed two of the Mandalorians that had attacked him, and would be a witness to his own retreat. It did not matter; the Mandalorians had to leave Dxun. Without a final thought, he gathered his breath and shouted at the top of his lungs.

"To me!"

Revan was left in confusion, as he saw the retreating form of the Mandalorian Commander. Every where he looked, his enemy entered the several fortresses of the Viper complex. With a gasp of surprise, the Jedi had realized his enemy's plan.

"Daggers! Take him out!" He said, using his saber to point towards Fett. As one, Revan's elite squadron raised their rifles in aim and fired towards their target. To the General's eyes, everything now seemed to move in slow motion. He watched in agony as dozens of Mandalorians jumped in the way of the shots, dying to save their leader.

A sharp screech sounded on Revan's mind, as the Force had showed him an image of the imminent future. Noticing his enemy disappear into one of the Viper's entrance, the General desperately yelled, his voice sounding as the roar of a lion.

"Jedi, shield your men!" With such order, Revan sent his mental image to each of his Jedi.

The General dropped his lightsaber, clenching his fists by his waist, before using all his strength to form an invisible wall above and around him. He glanced sideways, noticing most Jedi doing the same.

He made a silent prayer, as there might still be a glimpse of hope.

* * *

There was a silent moment in the battlefield, as the regulars observed in confusion their Jedi Commanders. More confused than those, were the Mandalorian infantrymen, noticing the closed doors to the Vipers. That small moment of peace did not last long.

It seemed as if the very sky above them had fallen down. An unbearable roar deafened all ears around the towering fortresses of the Viper complex. An immense wall of flame advanced swiftly through the battlefield, burning everything in its way. Thirty thousand Mandalorians still on the ground suffered an excruciating death, as their own armor heated to the point of melting before the flames even touched their owners. Twenty thousand Republic regulars, including every armored suit within the Vipers' walls, met the same fate, only at a quicker rate. The number would be higher if it weren't for the several Jedi commanders, forming invisible shields around them.

Such inferno lasted precisely thirty seconds, before the flame was substituted by a huge wall of smoke, covering not only the Viper complex, but also hundreds of meters around and above the field.

Trees still burned and men still screamed, yet Revan still had a job to do.

"Radio operator!" The smoke clouded everything around him. Those men still alive coughed desperately in search of fresh air. For once, Revan was glad he was wearing a mask. "Radio operator!"

"Sir!" He heard a shout from his right. Walking towards the sound, he found himself before a young man, perhaps slightly older than him, vomiting on the scorched ground.

"You're the radio operator?" Revan asked, doubtfully. The men only nodded, before sitting on the ground soundly. "What's your name!"

"Corporal Rand, sir… Operator for the thirty first Special Ops division."

"Well, Corporal, does your radio still work?"

"I think so, sir…" It was then Atton Rand first looked up and noticed who he was talking to. Revan was a frightening figure, but he was simply terrifying at that time, considering his armor was smoldering from the intense heat. He hurriedly looked through the contents of his backpack, before finding a small communicator, not larger than a fist. However small, it was the only kind of communication device capable of reaching the blockading ships above Dxun. "Here…"

Revan quickly grabbed the device from the Corporal's hand, adjusting the frequency before speaking.

"Serra, are you listening to me?" It took a moment, but the voice of commander Ors responded.

"Loud and clear, sir…"

"The Mandalorians have escaped. They mean to break through the blockade. Direct your fighters towards them and blast their engines…" A slight wind was beginning to disperse the smoke from the field. Thousands of corpses were simply turned to dust, but there were quite a few bodies that were nothing but smoldering carcasses. However tough Revan's men were, such sight was too much. Everywhere, men vomited, passed out or cried. Some were shouting the names of their comrades in arms. Revan clenched his fists in anger. "Serra…"

"Sir?"

"Kill the bastards…"

* * *

Erich Fett watched the previously clear blue sky become darker. They were leaving the atmosphere of Dxun, and now the real challenge would begin.

The outline of the Republic war vessels was already visible. It was only a matter of time before the escaping ten Mandalorian battleships would come into the blockading fleet's range. The Head of the Viper, the Mandalorian flagship, centered the tight, spearhead formation of the small fleet.

The young warrior shuddered. Even though only half of Revan's fleet was guarding Dxun, the other half protecting Onderon, it was still an impressing sight. As a wall made of steel, it would take the full power of every single ship he had to shoot a hole through it. As such, Erich pointed all of the Vipers' guns forward.

The ships sensors flashed red. The young Mandalorian looked at the screen before him; dozens of red dots were swiftly approaching the rearguard of the fleet's formation. Erich pressed a button besides such screen, and his voice echoed to the bridges of each Mandalorian ship with him.

"Do not, I repeat, do not point your guns towards the approaching fighters. If any of us are to get out of this cursed moon we need our full strength directed at those battleships!"

The Mandalorian commanders followed Erich's orders, and did not fire a single ion shell at the approaching enemy. So Serra Ors simply lined up with the fleeing ships and began to fulfill Revan's orders.

Hundreds of missiles left the fighter squadron. They did not meet a single resistance before hitting the engines of the last two Mandalorian battleships. The immense structures blew up, leaving nothing but the ships' momentum to drive them forward.

Knowing escape was lost to them, the disabled ships turned their guns backwards, firing at the fighters. Serra and her squadron went around them, hitting the ships' bridges with what was left of their missiles. Without legs or brains, the Mandalorian battleships drifted aimlessly through space.

Erich did not even bother to look at the screen. He knew perfectly well a single squadron of fighters would not be able to stop his fleet, and now eight battleships headed straight towards the Republic blockade.

His screen flashed red once again, Serra's squadron was already returning to Dxun, but the Republic cruisers before him had a lot more than one squadron. Hundreds of fighters left their respective ships, heading at full speed towards the escaping Mandalorians. Erich pressed the same button as before.

"Side ships, aim at the fighters! Vanguard ships, shoot directly in front of you! Clear our path, gentlemen!"

The Commanders once again did as they were told and soon it rained ion on the Republic blockade. Such formation responded in kind, and, soon, one of the vanguard Mandalorian ships blew up in a massive, blue colored, fireball.

"All ships, concentrate your fire on a single battleship…" He searched the screen before him to find the perfect spot. "At coordinates 15, 36, and 97, on your screen…"

The Republic battleship, Aramis, had no idea why it was picked. All it knew is that, now, seven Mandalorian battleships were directing over forty gun turrets at his center.

As all things that are pressed too hard by an overwhelming force, the Aramis shattered, in its center; its front and rear parts thrown at the neighboring battleships, as a result of the explosion.

A Destroyer quickly began to leave the defense of Onderon to take over the gap left by the Aramis' destruction. With so, the battle became a race; the second Republic battleship rushing to maintain the blockade, and the Mandalorian formation, rushing to leave Dxun.

Erich openly cursed as he saw the Republic Destroyer take its place to fill the gap. He rubbed his helmed chin in thought. The man raised his head in realization.

"Vanguard Viper, ram your ship to that Destroyer." He said, in a calm yet firm tone. In reality, Erich was as nervous as any of his men, but a leader never shows fear in the face of the enemy.

"But sir!" A cry of protest came from the comm. unit next to the screen. Before the Mandalorian Commander could continue, Erich shouted at the screen.

"On your honor, Commander, do as I say!"

There was no response to the last order, only the increase of speed by the Mandalorian vanguard ship. The Republic blockade ships realized their enemy's intentions, and quickly concentrated their fire on the quickly approaching battleship.

The vanguard ship's hull began to cave in, and Erich realized the Viper would not reach the Destroyer before its engines blew up.

"Mandalorian second, take your place behind the vanguard. And do not even think of contradicting my order."

The second ship maneuvered behind the actual 'spearhead' of the Mandalorian formation. Barely a minute after such movement was executed; the vanguard ship blew up in a blue fireball. The battleship behind it crossed the blazing debris at full speed. It was too late for the Republic ships to redirect their turrets. It was too late for the Destroyer to save itself.

The 'spear' hit the destroyer with full strength. Both ships began to implode, fire slowly spreading, deck by deck. As soon as both ships vaporized, leaving only debris not larger than a grown man, the Mandalorian fleet passed through the blockade.

"How soon can we jump?" Erich asked his second in command at the bridge.

"Less then a minute, sir…"

"Hurry up, you idiots…"

Onderon's ion guns opened fire at the escaping Mandalorians, managing to take out yet another battleship from Erich's formation. The blockade of Dxun had been broken, and the Republic ships were beginning to rush after their escaped 'prisoners'.

"Enjoy while you can, you bastards…" Erich said, apparently to himself. "For now, your besiegers withdraw but one day we'll return."

"Sir, coordinates ready!"

"Jump now, Lieutenant!" Fett turned around, a slight hint of desperation in his voice. "Take us to Mandalorian territory!"

The Vipers jumped to hyperspace, and there was a deadly silence in Japrael.

* * *

**(Aftermath, Republic) – Aboard Bastila's personal War Vessel, Melinda.**

"How did they get away?" Revan asked to all present in the room. Titus Vorm was the only one to speak up.

"They used a ship to ram one of our destr…"

"I know the manner of which they escaped, Titus…" Revan's voice gave away his mood. "How were they allowed to escape?"

The occupiers of the room became silent once again. Revan's mask gave the general the looks of a demon. Now Revan's face gave him the look of a dead man. Two months with his mask on made his face incredibly pale. With no one seemingly willing to talk, the young man continued.

"Bastila, your Battle Meditation could have stopped them… What happened?"

"She was on a personal training session with me." Kreia, who had so far only stood on the corner of the room, as she was not part of Revan's official council, had spoken up. "I asked not to be disturbed."

A mix of anger and disbelief passed through Revan's eyes.

"Training?" His voice began to break, a clear sign the General urgently needed a good night's sleep. "Two destroyers have been taken out, killing thousands of our soldiers and allowing our enemy to escape, while you were training?"

"Revan, I think you're being too hard on us, but mainly yourself…" Malak spoke up in a soothing tone. "We kicked them out of the system and humiliated their new Mandalore. It's time we celebrated such victory…"

"Victory, you say?" Revan had turned to face his long time friend. "You were on the field with me, Malak. You saw how the Mandalorians jumped in the way of the Daggers' bullets to save Fett. They had never done that for any Commander before!"

"Indeed…" Admiral Karath spoke up. "Their devotion to this young man, Erich Fett, troubles me…"

"The battle is over!" Malak stood up from his chair. "We killed more of theirs than they killed ours. We took the ground, they fled. Their leader is humiliated. And you, my friend, are in need of a good night's sleep or a bottle of Corellian wine, not at any particular order."

"Malak is right…" Bastila said, holding Revan's hand. "We all need a few days to rest. For Force's sake, Revan you didn't even celebrate your twenty first birthday… You need a few days off."

"I cannot spare a few days off…" Revan sighed in exhaustion. "I need to replenish our ranks and order new armored units to replace those lost at Dxun. I need to promote sergeants to officers, to compensate for the ones we lost. The Senate will most likely call me speak in one of their sessions…"

Bastila gently laid her finger atop his lips. "That will have to wait."

"Admiral, you can take care of the military preparations, can't you?" Lucius asked, speaking up for the first time in that meeting.

"I am very well able to… It will take a few days to load the men back into the ships. We won't be able to leave Japrael for another three days…"

"Lord Yusanis…" Revan waited for the man to leave a darkened corner of the room. "Can you raise me a new fleet?" Yusanis smirked.

"Another fleet?"

"Ordo is stupid; Fett is not. He'll raise an army twice the side of the last and put competent officers in charge of it."

"You'll still have to petition the Senate."

"That can wait a few days… Can't it?"

"It can…" Yusanis smiled. "Regain your strength, our training isn't over…"

Revan smiled, gave each member of his council a small respectful nod and left towards his room. If Bastila hadn't been there, the General feared he would have collapsed to the ground.

It took merely two hours for the battle's outcome to reach Coruscant. Crowds gathered on the streets, praising Revan and the Republic Army. The Senate issued several official statements, congratulating Revan on the victory and using Dxun as a recruiting tool.

As for the General himself, he slept… For forty hours straight.

All seemed peaceful in the Republic space.

* * *

**(Aftermath – Mandalorian Confederacy) – Aboard the Head of the Viper**

Erich Fett strode into Mandalore's personal chambers. The smell of incense irritated the young man's nose. Something was wrong.

The silver armor of the Supreme Commander of all Mandalorian forces was placed on a stand, near the room's wall. Erich could tell it had been polished recently.

"Fett…" The deep voice of Ordo echoed through the room. "I'm glad you've come…"

"What is your command, my lord?"

Ordo kneeled at a large cushion placed at the center of the room. He was wearing a white toga, of some ceremonial meaning unknown to Erich. He pointed towards a similar cushion in front of him.

Fett followed the man's suggestion and kneeled before the old Mandalorian.

"My lord?"

"How old are you, Fett?"

"I turn twenty six in five months, sir…"

"Twenty six…" Ordo smiled silently. "I am almost three times your age, you know…"

"You don't look like a day older than me, sir…"

"Stop your flattering, General…" The old man coughed, most likely due to heavy scent of incense. "I am old and useless…"

"Mandalore is never useless, sir…"

"That is a title I no longer deserve, son…"

Erich's heart started to beat faster. Several men, wearing some kind of ceremonial silver armor entered the room, forming a circle around the two. They began to chant some words in ancient Mandalorian, a language unknown even to Fett. These men approached the silver armor, and brought the silver gloves to Fett.

"Do you pledge your allegiance to the Mandalorian cause?"

"I do…" Erich responded, solemnly. The silver gauntlets were set in place.

"Do you promise to respect each Clan?"

"I do…" The boots were placed on Erich's feet.

"Cowardice, love, desperation, fear… These feelings are all forbidden to you, do you understand?"

"I do…" The thigh and groin armor pieces were set in place.

"You have no Clan. You are no longer a Fett. Your only banner is honor. Without it, you are disgraced. Do you understand?"

"I do…" The chest plate was placed.

"Our race follows you. Thy soul is now bound to this armor. Until the day of your death you shall wear it. You are a lion in the midst of cattle. If one day you find yourself unworthy of such designation, you shall resign, in the benefit of our race. Do you understand?"

"I do…" The helm was carefully placed in the young man's head. Ordo rose from his cushion.

"The name Erich no longer means anything to you. From now to your death you are Mandalore."

Ordo stripped of his toga and was completely nude before Fett. One of the ceremonial guards handed Erich a silver pistol and the man knew what he had to do. He aimed at the old man's heart.

The last shot of the Battle of Dxun was fired.

* * *

**Author's notes:**

And there it is: the tenth chapter to Power of Choices.

Look, I know it's been a while but I'll try to explain what has been going on: I'm in Law school. I'm an intern at INSS (Instituto Nacional do Seguro Social), a government branch responsible for retirement plans. I work for three Federal Attorneys, responsible for defending such branch at lawsuits. Brazilian Federal Attorneys went on strike, wanting better salaries. They didn't get it. Work piled up. The strike ended. A thousand lawsuits now come in, every week for us either to fight it or to do as the judge said. Attorneys trust in me. Attorneys pay me from their own pocket to do over ten hours a week of overtime. Work still piles up. Am back for the fourth semester at college. Have become quite a good friend of Johnnie Walker.

So I say I've been quite busy lately.

I will, though, dedicate some time to reading some fics I kind of unwillingly forgot about.

As usual: **Read and Review.**

**Usual funny quote: "Marriage, the only institution you win your freedom by misbehaving." **

**- Bussunda -**

Currently reading: Sharpe's Fortress, by Bernard Cornwell.

Currently listening to: Still Life, by Opeth (Progressive Death Metal)

Currently playing: A few skirmishes on AOE3 (though I think this game is the worst of the series) and a pretty damned successful Julii campaign in Rome Total War (Gaul and Spain quickly conquered)


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: You know the drill... I own nothing.**

**Chapter 11 – The Calm Before the Storm - part 1**

"Good afternoon... I'm Revan Stormrider, Brigadier General of the Republic Armed Forces…"

The General introduced himself as he stood in the center of a hovering platform as wide as a small boat. As big as the podium was, its size was nothing compared to the auditorium around it. Over two thousand students from the Senate's Military Academy watched the uniformed man before them in a mix of awe and curiosity.

"I've been asked by the head of this Academy to present a small lecture on the responsibilities and assignments of an officer…" Revan's uniform showed as little pomp possible. Besides the three golden diamond insignias, there was little indication that this man was in the military, much less the commander of a third of the army.

"So…" He smiled "Any of you know what it means to be an officer?"

The question took them by surprise. The entire auditorium was taken over by the students' murmurs.

"No one?" Revan asked patiently. He didn't use his mask, as it would be unwise to walk around Coruscant looking like a Sith Lord. His face was pale, almost fragile, but it seemed to shed light into the room. It had nothing to do with the Force, but with the legend Revan had created around himself. "I would expect students half way through the course to know the answer to this basic question…"

A Twi'lek student raised his hand.

"Huh… Sir, we handle the tactical aspects of the army… Huh… Sir…"

Revan smiled.

"Very well, let's start with that…" He paced the entire length of the platform, his boots making metallic sounds as they touched the stone floor. "Yes, it is an officer's job to handle the tactical aspect of the military… But that answer is not a complete one… Does anyone else know?"

He waited a while, but when no response came, he continued.

"An officer's job, his function, his responsibility is to ensure all assets available to him are applied the best way possible, according to each specific situation…"

"That's a bit basic, isn't it, sir?"

"It was a basic question…" Revan answered, turning towards the student who talked to him "If you ever find yourself with a complex answer to a basic question, odds are you are wrong…"

"Think about it…" He continued "Where is a RB position most effective? How best to apply your artillery to cover your advance or your retreat? When to flank? When to assault? When to draw your enemy into a trap? _How best _to draw your enemy into that trap… Basic questions!"

He let the information he had thrown at them be absorbed.

"Basic questions that, when put together, can create a complex situation…" He turned towards the other side of the auditorium "Your job as officers is to handle these complex situations as they truly are, a series of basic challenges handled by basic solutions that, combined, can counter any attack thrown at you or put your enemy into a mess they quite simply can't get out…

"You need to stop thinking of the battlefield as a chessboard in which you'll take control of every piece… Most Generals spend a lifetime without actually making an important strategic move…"

"Sir… How is that even possible?"

Revan looked at the young woman that had spoken up.

"Your name?"

"Ensign Jade Corrah, sir…"

"Well, Corrah…" Revan folded his hands across his chest "A city is divided in equal halves by a river… Several bridges connect points of conflict on urban ground, with civilians and several other non-combatants most of which the Mandalorians will kill…Your job, as an officer, is to take these conflict points and look after their safety… How will you accomplish that?"

She looked uncomfortable.

"I'd send armored units followed by infantry to establish a beachhead that the civilians could use as a reference to look for shelter…"

"Very well…" He didn't wait for her reply "The Mandalorians strike one of those beachheads with walkers and heavy infantry… The civilians are no longer safe… How do you counter that?"

"I…"

"The civilian numbers are growing at our side… There's little food left for our troops and the water reserves won't last for much longer. You can't dispose of the civilians, and you can't waste resources evacuating them… Meanwhile, the Mandalorians are still attacking, and killing your men… Quickly, how do you counter?"

"I-I…"She breathed heavily. Her face was red with embarrassment and she found herself in a mess bigger than she could handle "I don't know, sir…"

Revan smiled.

"Congratulations…" His face was serene and his voice calm "You've just made the first assumption an officer must be completely aware of: You don't know everything…"

He turned to the other side of the auditorium.

"In fact, and I speak such from personal experience, you know very little. Few Generals win battles. Armies win battles. Sergeants, Lieutenants, Corporals, Soldiers… They handle more problems than any General can cope with, yet the General always comes home with the glory. Unfair, to say the least…"

Revan looked at each of their faces. Most showed nothing but ambition and determination. Important qualities, undoubtedly, but not vital ones.

"What you must realize before you can even think about commanding troops is that before being an officer, you're a soldier…" He held his hands together, almost pleading for their understanding "Humility is absolutely indispensable in strategic thought. If you think of yourselves as a level above regulars, you're gaining their animosity and losing their loyalty…"

"But sir, it is common sense that you can't be too friendly to regulars…"

"I didn't say you should…" Revan rubbed his forehead, thinking of how best he would make them comprehend his words "All I said is that you should not think of yourselves as better than them, but you must, through your actions, make them believe that for themselves…"

He could see he wasn't getting his message across. He sighed and looked down.

"The most competent officers are not those formed by this Academy, but those formed by the hardships of battle…" He raised his tone of voice "You'll graduate from here as Second Lieutenants, but you will only become officers when you meet the bloody reality of the fronts…

"When you're able to think straight with laser projectiles passing inches from your head, ion shells hitting men right next to you, the cries of pain from those injured…" He took a deep breath "When you're able to use your brain in the midst of such chaos and keep your soldiers alive while pushing them forward, or better yet, leading them to victory… Then, and only then, you'll be an _average_ officer…"

"So you become an officer through experience…" A Zabrak student spoke up "But it doesn't make you a great one… What does?"

Revan looked at the student's eyes.

"You become a good officer when you see yourself as an asset…"

The student looked surprised.

"Sir?"

"I've said it before… Your job is to handle your assets effectively." Revan raised his index finger to draw attention to his serious expression "When you see yourself as a piece of the puzzle, a triumph that must be used at particular situations, then, and only then, you're a good officer…"

"And a great officer?" Corrah asked. She, as most students, absolutely loved the young man's lecture so far. He had been direct, humble, intelligent and frank. She had to admit, she had had second thoughts of going through the Academy's course after only a week. A week of hearing nothing but arrogant teachers trying to pass them a fake notion of superiority, through far away classes and recorded holograms.

"I'm sorry?"

"How about a great officer, sir?" She smiled "He did ask about being a great officer… Not a good one…"

Revan smiled and looked down, thoughtfully.

"You're a great officer when you're able to comprehend and use to your advantage the greatest tool available to you…" Revan held his head down. "Sacrifice…"

"Sacrifice?" Corrah asked, confused "How can that be our greatest tool?"

Revan's smile had vanished. His pale face looked as if it was made of marble. No muscles moved and, for what seemed like an eternity, Revan was silent.

"Sacrifice…" He responded, finally "You become a great officer when you see all those around you, including yourself, as assets that can, and sometimes must, be sacrificed for the sake of the battle…

"When you're able to send your best friend towards certain death so your forces can gain an advantage… When you remove all troops from a city that has three million souls so that you can save a more important strategic position, even if that's only a bridge, then… Then you're a great officer…"

The room was silent. Revan's words were harsh, but the students could feel the truth within them. The General glared at the apprentices, his eyes filled with determination.

"There will come the time you'll have to sacrifice ten republic soldiers for every Mandalorian killed, in order to stop their advance… There will come the time you'll have to bombard a city in order to take numerical superiority from the Mandalorians on that planet…"

The students looked grim.

"War is bloody…" Revan gathered his datapad and cap from a metal table "It's meant to be bloody… It's the only reason nations don't wage war each day…War's tow is far greater than its rewards… I have done things I am not proud of…"

He halted his speech, looking down once more.

"On the outer rim…" The General placed his cap over his head, hiding his eyes "Planets I've abandoned, lives I've sacrificed… Friends, soldiers… Brothers… If you don't think you can handle these truths, maybe the war is not for you…"

"Uh…" The Twi'lek that had first raised his hand spoke up.

"Yes?" Revan said, looking up. "I'm afraid I didn't quite catch your name…"

"Ensign Vakesh Rehj, sir…" He shifted uncomfortably on his leather seat "I was just wondering… About sacrificing assets… Would you do it, sir?"

"I'm afraid I didn't follow you, there…"

"Your best friend or relative…" The Twi'lek continued "Would you sacrifice him or her?"

"Ah…" Revan smirked "The ultimate question…"

"Well…" Corrah was curious "Would you?"

"I need to be completely honest with you… I don't know…" He looked around the room and placed a hand on his chest "I don't know, and neither do you…"

"Sir, I think I'd…" A student spoke up.

"You don't have a clue…" Revan said before the man could finish "You can say whatever you want, right now, but not until you're faced with that choice in a battle you'll have the answer…"

The room was once again silent.

"I'm afraid that's all the time I have…" He looked at the disappointment in the students' faces "If you still have any questions, I'll be available at my office at the 42nd floor of this facility after 1900 hours. Feel free to stop by for anything you need, and I sincerely hope to see you all again on the Outer Rim…"

As he finished that sentence, the platform he was standing on touched the ground. He calmly walked the length of the auditorium, leaving before he could hear the applause that followed him.

* * *

Revan removed his cap the moment he left the auditorium. He strode through the halls of the Academy, barging into his office like his life depended on it. 

"Titus…" He removed his overcoat, sitting on a leather chair "Have you heard from your man yet?"

"No, sir…" The immense Mandalorian walked around the young man until he stood by his side "But we're not expecting him to arrive at Coruscant's atmosphere for another half hour, sir…"

"When he arrives bring him to me immediately…" He looked around the room. Bastila was there, sitting next to Master Kreia, studying a holocrom. Lucius was preparing a report for him, on the casualties of Dxun. Malak and Serra were at the Academy's Gym, instructing the trainees in hand-to-hand combat. "I need the information he's bringing if I'm going to exit the Senate halls with all my limbs…"

The communicator rung. Lucius got up from his desk and picked up the headphone.

"General Revan's office…" Colonel Yorimaek looked at the young Jedi "Yes, I'll inform him, hang on…"

A slightly disturbed Lucius Yorimaek approached the General.

"Sir, it's from the atmospheric defense platforms…" He scratched his head "They say there's a Mandalorian riding a Basilisk war droid waiting for permission to come to the Academy… He claims to be working for you…"

"He is!" Revan got up, feeling relieved of a burden "Bring him to me within the next five minutes, and ready my transport… As soon as he arrives we head to the Senate…"

The office was a ruckus, as Revan once again dressed on his simple uniform, sparing the time to add a few medals and badges to his chest. He didn't need to impress a bunch of students, but the Senate was a different issue.

Dagger 038 marched into the room, accompanied by a couple of terrified guards, one with a black eye and the other one with a broken nose.

"38, what the hell happened?" The General asked, slightly amused.

"They wished to disarm me, sir…" He looked at the pair over his shoulder and tightened the grip on his sniper rifle "No one disarms me…"

Revan smirked.

"Do you have it?" His voice was eager, almost desperate "Of course you have it, you've come back alive, after all…"

The Dagger removed something from within his chestplate. It was a piece of paper, the size of a small napkin, folded in equal halves. He handed it to Revan in a solemn air, and the General was quick to unfold the paper and read its content.

"I knew it…" He said, sighing. The room seemed to lighten and its occupants looked at each other in search of an explanation. "Thank you 38; you'll be commended for this…"

"Pleased to serve you, my lord…"

He hit a closed fist across his chestplate and left the room. Revan folded the piece of paper and placed it upon his desk.

"Rev, it's time to go…" Malak entered the room to find a bunch of confused people staring at him "What? I've got something on my face, or something?"

"I'm heading towards the speeder…" Revan grabbed his overcoat and folded on his forearm "Bastila, Malak and Lucius, get ready as fast as you can and meet me at the transport bay… Titus, I don't have to tell you why you can't come with me, do I?"

"No sir…"

"Good…"

Revan left, not uttering a single word on what was the important message he received. Bastila approached his desk, and read the words on the piece of paper.

"We accept?" She asked herself, out loud "What is he talking about…"

"I don't know…" Malak grabbed his cap from a cabinet and opened the door for Bastila and Lucius "But I have a feeling we won't find out until we get to that car…"

The three officers rushed out of the room, heading immediately towards the transport bay, and towards Revan.

* * *

The sky was orange in the Capital world of Coruscant. The fog of pollution mixed with the light of the setting sun and the commercial signs creating an atmosphere that was nothing short of unique. 

Revan's official car sped through an endless line of vehicles, of all shapes and sizes, from small swoop bikes to massive transport containers.

"Revan…" Bastila Shan, Revan's companion, looked troubled "What exactly did that message mean?"

"I proposed a deal…" The young General hid his face with his hands, trying to concentrate "It was accepted…"

"What deal?" Malak asked. He didn't like being left out of the loop "And more importantly, to whom did you propose it?"

"Now, now, children…" Revan smirked behind his hands "Can't you wait until the debriefing is over?"

"No…" Both stated in unison.

"Well…" He lowered his hands and leaned back on the leather seat "I proposed a truce…"

"A truce!" Malak was shocked "You proposed a truce to F…"

"Fett accepted it…" Revan now had a broad smile across his face "It's not that much a truce, as it is a 'temporary ceasefire'…"

"Temporary?" Bastila asked "How temporary?"

"Three months…" The Jedi became serious again "More than enough time to pick ourselves up again…"

"And perhaps just the time Fett needed to rebuild his fleet…" His friend said, his heart accelerating "Revan, you're giving him what he wants… We finally have numerical advantage…"

"And we're gonna use that time to increase that advantage…" Revan raised his voice, to prove his mind was made "To conscript new troops and order new mechs and ships…"

"Mandalorians are proud…" Bastila was still not getting the idea "…headstrong, stubborn, at points…"

"So are you…"

"As I was saying…" She continued, irritated "How could a proud man like Fett accept the deal?"

"Simple…" Revan smirked yet again, much to the irritation of Bastila "As we are, now, we wouldn't be able to attack him for another month or two. As he is, now, he would be able to launch another invasion in another two to three months. I'm just setting an exact date, and he knows it…"

"Does Titus know of this?" Malak asked, looking at his friend seriously "I don't think this would fit in his concept of honor…"

"He doesn't know…" Revan stated, on a grave voice "He mustn't know…"

The Senate building came into sight. Damaged from the Old Sith War, the ancient building was in the middle of a process of restoration and expansion. There was a bill waiting approval, for the construction of a new Senate building, five times the size of the current one, representing the new times of the Republic.

The speeder landed in front of the main entrance. Political representatives were there, and so was the press. As Revan exited the speeder, followed close behind by his friends, all eyes focused on him. The press surrounded him like hungry dogs, asking so many different questions at the same time the young knight couldn't even understand them. His cap covered his eyes and hair, and the setting sun darkened his features so that the holo-cameras only managed to record the bottom part of his face.

The politicians, on the other hand, stood back, looking at him sideways. Bastila knew that look all too well and felt as if each step she took was a step towards a deadly trap. That look was the look of jealousy. They envied Revan. They envied the power he had conquered, the fame the war had brought him…

"Revan, be careful…" She said, through their bond "These men will crush you, in there, if you give them the opportunity…"

"And you don't think I know that?" Revan replied, telepathically "I'm here for the sole purpose of getting more resources for the war… The debriefing is just an excuse I'm using… 'Oh, Mr. Chancellor we've lost so many men…'"

To that, Bastila frowned. The loss of thousands of lives was not the best motive for a joke, much less in these dark times. Not wanting to ruin his concentration, she shut her end of the bond and looked down.

Revan looked back over his shoulder as he entered the Senate building, seeing the grim face of his loved one. He smirked and took a side corridor, as Bastila, Malak and Lucius headed straight towards the top level, and the viewers' balconies.

The actual Forum area was much like ancient forums of long lost cultures: A square room, with thousands of leather seats, forming most of a circle, with a clear space for the Chancellor's Chair and, in the middle, a small platform for speakers.

Revan calmly walked towards the center platform and placed some papers on a small glass display. The Senators' murmurs commenced, as Revan removed his cap. Few had seen the man's face, and even fewer had had any kind of conversation to the General.

Chancellor Traraan Zaborsk looked at the uniformed man. It hadn't been a year since the last time he had talked with the young knight, and he couldn't believe how Revan had changed. He looked tired, older, paler… War had its tow on man, and Traraan had the living proof of that standing right before him.

"Senatorial session number 32654-2, hearing General of the Republic, and former Jedi Knight, Revan Stormrider, under code of secrecy…" The Chancellor's aid announced. The code of secrecy was a fancy word for a session closed to the press "General Revan, you may begin your debriefing…"

"Thank you…" He looked at his papers "I stand here before you as the head of the seventh army, reporting the status of our forces and the War…"

"The first issue will be the Battle for Dxun…" The Chancellor spoke up, conducting the assembly "General Stormrider, what were our losses?"

"Your Excellency, the final count from the Battle of Dxun is three hundred and eighty thousand soldiers killed, approximately, with just as many wounded…"

The Senators gasped. A Nubian representative stood up from his chair in outrage.

"More than half our army is disabled!"

"About a sixth…" Revan smirked "I control only the Outer Rim defense forces, which amount for a third of the Army…"

"Still…" Senator Valorum looked at a piece of paper on his hand. "The losses were, you might say, _catastrophic_…"

"The battle is won…" Revan looked straight at Valorum "Japrael is clear of foes, and the Mandalorians were pushed out of that sector…"

"Do we have an estimative on how many Mandalorians were killed?" Traraan tilted his head sideways, looking at both Revan and Valorum.

"Close to two hundred thousand warriors… Half of those wounded…"

Half the Senators rose from their seats.

"Nearly half of our losses, and for what purpose? Liberating a forest moon?"

Revan looked at the Malastare representative.

"Senator Voys, the art of space combat is very much like ground warfare…" The young man's voice was tired. Having to explain combat tactics to Senators was like trying to explain Quantum Physics to a five year old "You gain advantage by holding strategic points, planets the enemy must take over before advancing… Onderon is one of those planets…"

"What's so special about Onderon?" Valorum asked "Why is it a key position?"

"Onderon has, by far, the largest population of that sector… Also the best orbital and ground defenses…"

"Wouldn't the Mandalorians want to deal with it after the rest of the system was in their hands?"

"No…" Revan looked at the Nubian representative "Onderon would need to be dealt with; otherwise the system's forces might amass around its defenses…"

"The combined system defenses would never be able to halt the Mandalorian advance…" Senator Voys knew very well the state of the Outer Rim forces "Only with a Republic Fleet…"

"Yes, Senator…" Revan interrupted the representative "But it would keep the Mandalorians in a prolonged siege, a situation that never favored them…"

"They ended up in a siege nonetheless!"

"Because we anticipated their move and established a ring of protection around Onderon…" The General was losing his patience "We pushed them towards Dxun, where it would be impossible for them to maintain their skirmish tactics… They were forced to engage our forces in trench and armored warfare, something they absolutely abhor!"

"Abhor?" The Chancellor asked, confused "Why do they abhor trench warfare?"

"In trench and armored combat, individual qualities matter very little…" Revan looked at the old human with a mix of irritation and tiredness "Honor is everything in Mandalorian culture, and there is little room for it when you're inside a damp trench or a technological monster, such as a tank…"

"How many Jedi did you lose?"

Revan looked at the man who asked the question. His eyes widened in recognition. A few meters left to the Chancellor's chair, stood four Jedi Masters…

"Master Vrook…" Revan's heart began to beat faster. He felt Bastila's distress through their now reopened bond. "Master Kavar, Master Zez-Kai Ell, Master Vandar… Can't say I'm surprised to see you…"

Revan smirked as the Senate was silent. The knight held his breath as the Jedi committee sat themselves at their reserved seats.

"You have not answered my question…" Vrook Lamar was an intimidating figure. One even the Chancellor cowered to. "How many Jedi did you lose?"

Revan's response was short.

"None you still care about…" His voice was bitter "So why bother counting?"

"Revan this is a serious question…" Zaborsk sat up on his chair, before any lightsabers were ignited "Did you lose too many Jedi in Dxun?"

"A fifth of our forces on Dxun…" Revan never removed his gaze from Vrook's eyes "Close to a tenth of our whole group…"

"No trace of Sith influence?" Master Zez-Kai Ell spoke up "The Council does not feel the Mandalorians were the masterminds of this incursion on Republic territories…"

"Master, with all due respect, if you stand still waiting for a sword to drop, a dagger might just slit your throat…" Revan could see some Senators smirking "Not every evil in this Galaxy has a Sith agenda behind it… We are not looking for the cause of this war, but the means to end it…"

Revan handed Zaborsk's assistant a datapad. The Chancellor looked at the young knight in confusion.

"What is this, Revan?"

"Reports from several military advisors, including your own councilor, Lord Yusanis of the Echani…" Traraan looked at it for a brief moment "It is a detailed study on our current standing and advices on future tactics…"

Though his face was immovable, Revan smiled in his thoughts. Zaborsk couldn't understand half of it, and that was just what he had hoped for. The Chancellor's eyes widened.

"Estimate needed forces:Forty million troops! Revan, you must be joking!"

"I'm afraid it is no joke…" Revan tapped something in a similar datapad "There are over fifty trillion souls in this Galaxy… To defend it with less than twenty million soldiers, twelve million to be precise, is, well… Suicidal, your Excellency…"

"May I see this, your Excellency?" Kavar picked up the datapad and examined it for a few minutes. Being a legendary Jedi Guardian, no one within the Order understood better the art of warfare as him.

"Well?" Vrook asked, impatiently "What does it say?"

"Even though I do not agree with some of the tactics presented here…" Master Kavar lowered the datapad and looked at Revan "I believe this assessment is correct… To safely defend this Galaxy the Republican army must have at leastforty million individuals, though I personally recommend close toseventy million…"

"Are you sure, Master Kavar…" Senator Caton Voys rose from his chair. It was the first actual participation of the Senate ever since the Jedi Masters entered the room "… that such massive force must be amassed? He who commands such grand Army might have too much power on his hands…"

"The power, Senator Voys…" Revan nearly shouted, responding to the obvious implication on the Senator's words "… would be held by the Galactic Senate… and by whomever this Institution chooses for that role…"

"And I suppose that means you?" Master Vrook said, in an almost sarcastic tone "Pride is not a Jedi virtue…"

"The Jedi ways are not to be discussed here!" All eyes turned towards the diminutive figure of Master Vandar Tokare "We are gathered to discuss the War… Now…"

Master Vandar 'got down' from his chair and paced the marble floor before the Chancellor.

"Master Kavar agreed with Revan's report, isn't that correct?" He looked at Kavar's positive nod "Then I see no reason for the denial of this motion…"

"But…"

"But…" Master Zez-Kai Ell interrupted Senator Voys "In the interest of better control over this operation, a Jedi Master shall, henceforth, monitor the progress of the War and the status of our troops…"

"Since the Senate already has a representative in that role: Lord Yusanis…" Master Kavar turned towards a very disturbed Chancellor "It is of our belief that the Jedi should also have a supervisor, to ensure the War effort is advancing…"

"Let me see if I get this right…" Revan looked at the four Masters before him "You're getting into the conflict?"

"No…" Master Vrook's response was quick "This representative is a figure to ensure all matters concerning the War are handled according to Jedi principles…"

Revan looked at them in a mix of hatred and indignation.

"Chancellor, I warn you…" His voice was grave, but his tone did not betray his emotions "War is not a place for good behavior and morals… The rules of common society do not apply to a battlefield…"

"I agree with you, Revan…" Master Kavar stood up "But the Dark Side of the Force lurks everywhere… In a war, hatred and bitterness are common feelings and if the exiled Jedi are infected by such… I don't think I need to explain it further…"

"Light has no influence in this war, Master…" Revan smirked at the look of the Jedi after that sentence "Death is everywhere… Pain, suffering… The makings of the Dark Side, you say… The basics of war, I say…"

Before Master Zez-Kai Ell was able to interrupt him, Revan continued.

"There is no war without suffering…" He leaned forward, arms grasping the glass display "You cannot win a war without those dark feelings… Because a professional army can only go so far…"

"Be mindful of what you speak, young man!"

"Forgive me, Master Tokare…" Bastila calmed him through their bond "But every single soldier in the Republic Army has these dark feelings, and the Jedi are not immune to them… Only those far from the conflict can shield themselves…

"Day after day, you see your brothers in arms fall right beside you…" He turned his back to the Jedi Masters, addressing the rest of the Senate "You hear about Mandalorian massacres on innocent population, you see with your very eyes the destruction they bring upon every planet they set foot on…"

Revan turned to face the Masters.

"So, without a shadow of doubt, there are dark feelings, Master Kavar…" He pointed a seemingly accusing finger at the Jedi Guardian "But they are preset at every warring army… Without this hatred, bitterness, even lust you might say, an army cannot wage war…"

The Jedi Masters were silent. Revan scorned as he noticed their looks. Their eyes searched the Senate for any supporting look. They found none…

"The same thing works for Jedi…" Revan's voice was calmer "You cannot expect a Jedi to walk into a bloody battlefield every day by the mere sense of duty…"

Master Vandar closed his eyes and sighed.

"I expect nothing from them, Revan…" He opened his eyes "But being my former pupil, I expected more from you…"

His words stung Revan. Pride left his face and a sense of shame unknown to him took over his features. The young knight sighed, looking down.

"I vow before you, Master Vandar… No Jedi has fallen…" His look no longer seemed that of a confident General, but of a tired man "Now… If you ask me if there is a possibility of such… Well, my answer would be yes…"

"We mean to stop that from occurring…" Master Zez-Kai Ell stepped closer to the knight, much to the surprise of the Senators "Our watcher will be there for that purpose…"

The old Master touched his shoulder. Revan smiled and closed his eyes. He raised his voice.

"Does the Senate approve this?"

As if awaken from a dream, the Senators began to murmur amongst themselves. Zaborsk exchanged a look with Senator Valorum, who responded with an almost unnoticeable nod.

"I approve…" The Chancellor's voice was strong, almost commanding "This study came from our most trusted advisor, Lord Yusanis of the Echani, and it was approved by the Jedi Council…"

"If there were any doubts on how these troops were to be used…" Janus Valorum stood up; walking into the center of the forum "Those were cleared by the presence of a Jedi Monitor in the war effort… I move for General Revan's motion to be approved…"

Caton Voys looked at the two humans with hatred in his eyes. The representative of Malastare felt betrayed by those he considered to be his allies in this political game…

No words left Caton's mouth as Revan's motion was approved.

* * *

"You heard the news…" The Mandalorian's metallic voice was cold "The Jedi will monitor Lord Revan's progress…" 

"I have…"

"This will hinder your plans…"

"Not at all…" She smiled "At this moment, he is beyond redemption…"

"No one is beyond redemption…"

"Does that include me?"

The man was silent. He had to admit, her presence had always frightened him. To stand alone before her was a test to his nerves. With her present, all light cowered… All darkness prevailed…

"What will you do?"

She seemed to ponder the question. Only her breathing was heard in the room…

"I must anticipate my plans…" Her weak voice carried as much wisdom as it did spite "Exploit his weakness… Drag him under…"

The man shivered. The time had come…

"You know what you ask of me…" He hesitated "To forsake all that has been taught by Mandalorian ways…"

She sniggered.

"Ways change…"

He inhaled sharply.

"I will do as you command…" The man bowed "Betrayer…"

* * *

Peace… 

Revan felt peaceful. Despite the minor setback with the Jedi Masters, his meeting with the Senate had gone well. His motion was approved. He would get his men… All was well…

…

Too well…

He rolled over in bed. The movement must have been quite harsh, because he heard Bastila moan in protest. He was in a state of trance… Not awake… Not asleep…

Something was wrong…

He tried to wake up, but an overwhelming force pushed him down. His heart throbbed like a war drum. Every intake of breath was difficult…

The Force…

It had to be it… Someone incredibly strong in the Force was holding him down… Were they trying to kill him? No it couldn't be it… It would be easier to break his neck using the Force… There was no need to hol…

BASTILA!

His mind expanded. Desperation took over him… They couldn't… They wouldn't dare… THEY'D BE DEAD IF THEY TOUCH A SINGLE STRAND OF BASTILA'S HAI…

A metal hand grasped his throat… His eyes opened wide…

Titus…

"I'm sorry, my lord…" He forced the words out of throat "But these orders outrank you…"

Revan fumed in anger. Golden eyes watched helplessly as Bastila was taken out the window into a speeder, seemingly in a trance much like his. His guards were dead… The corpses of four Daggers were leaned against the wall.

"Treason!" Revan spit out his words "You'll be begging for death once I'm done with you…"

Titus looked at the yellow tint in Revan's eyes. Damned be that woman… She had just killed him…

Revan fought the Mandalorian's grip as hard as he could, but his body was still held by that presence… The Force user… Revan was in trance. His consciousness searched within his mind where the intruder had penetrated his defenses.

The knight growled at his own foolishness. The bond… Revan's soul bond to Bastila had been an open doorway into his mind. As he started to cross the bond to his lover's mind, a sharp pain hit him, and he felt no more…

* * *

**TBC**

* * *

**Author's Notes: I know it's been ridiculously long, but a bunch of computer problems took me away from this project pretty much since last September.**

**This chapter is part 1 of 2, and it's pretty much an intro to the next one... I hope to upload it within the next month, though if I don't finish it by my first round of college exams… Well, I guess you know what comes first...**

**Read and Review.**

**Thanks for the support.**

**Brazilian Sith Lord**

**Some books I've read and absolutely recommend:**

'**Gates of Fire' by Steven Pressfield (If you've seen 300 and found it so incomprehensively silly, my opinion, read this book… One of the few books I've read with absolutely no antagonist… All we see is conflicting interests, and quite frankly you feel sympathy even for Xerxes…)**

'**Sourcery' by Terry Pratchett (Quite literally laughed my ass off since the very first sentence…)**

**Music I've listened to: Opeth – Blackwater Park; Rage – From the Craddle to the Stage; My Dying Bride – As the Flower Withers; Therion - Sirius B/Lemuria; Rebellion – Sagas of Iceland; Amon Amarth – With Oden on Our Side; Death – Symbolic; Katatonia – Dance of December Souls; Morbid Angel – Heretic; Nevermore – This Godless Endeavour; Orphaned Land – Mabool: The Story of the Three Sons of Seven… And a bunch of other stuff…**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: You know the drill... I own nothing.**

**Chapter 12 – Storms of Darkness**

Emptiness…

That was what Bastila Shan felt as she woke up. Her head ached as if it had been stepped on by a Rancor. She couldn't see anything in front of her.

Standing on her knees, the former Padawan touched her own face. She wasn't blindfolded and her eyes seemed fine. She shivered as she felt the rocky surface beneath her.

"Where… Am I?"

She tried to focus and remember what had happened. She remembered going to sleep next to Revan, and a horrible nightmare…

"It was no nightmare…" She said, breathing faster "Titus… Why?"

"Titus is not here…"

Bastila turned to where the voice had come from, using the back of her hand to wipe the sweat from her forehead.

"Who's there?" Her voice was weak, almost breaking "Where AM I?"

A deep laugh echoed through the room. Bastila's eyes widened, recognizing the voice she'd grown accustomed to hear.

"Mast…" The former Padawan gasped. As her hand descended from her forehead, it reached a metallic object near her throat "Is this…?"

Bastila's heart accelerated. She reached out to the depths of her soul, only to find a terrifying void… Emptiness… Her soul bond to her loved one, the Knight Revan, was shut. The young woman began to despair. She palmed her waist, searching for her lightsaber. There was nothing there… In fact, the fabric around her was not the usual grey Republic uniform she wore, but something harder… Leather, possibly.

"It is a Force suppression collar, child…" A small durasteel lantern shone some light into the area. Kreia, the only Jedi Master to participate in the war, stood ten meters from her former pupil "You couldn't be infected by this planet's aura until we've prepared for it…"

"Why am I here?" Her tone was serious, challenging "Where _is_ 'here'?"

Her eyes grew accustomed to the dim light. She was in a cave of some sorts. Durasteel columns rose from the muddy floor to the stone ceiling at regular spaces, indicating the room was built within the rock. A dozen meters behind Master Kreia, five Mandalorians guarded ordinary blast doors, made to resist even the most powerful metal cutter in the galaxy: A lightsaber.

"You are not in a position to demand information, Bastila…" Kreia stepped closer to the Padawan "And you should show some respect for your Master…"

"Respect?" Bastila got up, looking at the woman before her "Am I supposed to show respect for someone who kidnaps me and throws me in a cave with a Force suppression collar…AHGH!"

The former Padawan fell to the floor with a painful cry. Tears fell from her eyes as the smell of her own flesh burning reached her nostrils. Her back singed as she sat up, looking back to where the blow was struck from. She remained silent as a bald man, remarkably similar to Malak, approached them from the darkness, holding a Force-whip on his left hand.

"You will show respect for Master Traya…" The whip lunged forth from his hand, hitting her across her abdomen. His voice was dark, brooding… "Even if it takes weeks for you to do so…"

Blood fell from her lips, as her right arm covered her wounded stomach. She looked at the man with hateful eyes, whishing for nothing more than her lightsaber to avenge the pain she was feeling.

"Sion, look at her eyes…" Kreia smiled and walked past Bastila until she and the man were side by side "She hates you as much as she hates me…"

Bastila saw a white light coming from Kreia's fingertips, and widened her eyes in fear. The former Padawan was thrown back as a Force lightning struck her chest. Her back arched as the very veins of energy burned every cell in her body.

Hearing the young woman's screams, one of the Mandalorians - presumably the leader - turned his back to the scene and pressed the doorway controls. He looked over his shoulder one last time before closing the blast doors, shaking his head disapprovingly.

* * *

His hands were sweating and shaking… A pair of closed fists supported his weight on a wooden table. Force knows how he had gotten dressed in his uniform, and much less remained silent for the better portion of the hour. 

Revan looked forward, blue eyes staring into an empty space right before him, but searching for something several parsecs away.

Eyes stared down. No one dared to look at him. His jaw shook with a mix of nervousness and anger. A sweat drop traveled from his forehead to his chin.

"Wha…" His voice was barely a rasp. Purple lines marked Titus' grip on his throat "What has happened?"

He searched the room for an explanation, finding only diverted looks and sad faces.

Malak approached his friend, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Bastila's gon…"

"I KNOW BASTILA'S GONE!" He yelled, causing Malak to withdraw his hand "What I want to know is how an entire Clan of Mandalorians could leave the capital world of the Republic boarding a Republic BATTLESHIP!!!"

"It happened quietly during the night…" Colonel Yorimaek approached the table, holding out a datapad to the young Knight "They boarded the Kraken, killed the few crewmembers not on leave and took off out of Republic space… They were last seen near the Juko sector…"

Revan lowered his head.

"Crap…" He sighed "That's the closest path to Malachor V…"

His eyes focused at the doorway to his office, being guarded by a couple of Daggers. He was surprised to find out the Daggers had remained on Coruscant and had even killed some escaping Mandalorians.

"38… Approach…" He saw the black armored man walk closer to his desk "I want the details on Malachor V's defenses…"

"Revan…" Serra's eyes were full of unshed tears. "I know I can't possibly begin to understand how you feel… But to attack Malachor with our current strength would be suicide…"

"Attack… Malachor V?" 38 tilted his head, not understanding "Why Malachor V?"

"Bastila was taken to your capital world…" Revan's head remained low.

"Which would be Malachor V?" The Mandalorian asked, almost amusingly "Malachor V? That barren wasteland?"

"Wasteland?" Malak stood in front of the man, pushing him against the metal wall "Stop your lies you armored freak!"

"He isn't lying…Arrg, crap…" Revan lowered his head in disbelief "Titus was… I never looked into that information… Arrg, how could I've been such a fool!"

"Revan, think…" Malak gripped the man's throat "He's leading you to a trap…"

"He isn't…"

"How do you know that, huh? Why should trust his words?"

"Because the Force is telling me to do so!" All traces of weakness left Revan's voice "And if you used your bloody head, for once, instead of your fists, you'd have realized that as well!"

"Grwll… Sir… We're a nomadic society… We have no capital world…" Malak released the man and looked at him suspiciously "In fact every Mandalorian learns from the cradle that Malachor V is off limits…"

"Off limits?" Colonel Yorimaek looked up from his datapad "Why 'off limits'?"

"It is said to be a dark place…" He gripped his weapon, nervously "Of ancient temples and beasts… A border world to an ancient empire…"

"Empire?" Serra looked at Revan "The only Interstellar Empire we have evidence about is…"

"The Sith Empire…" Revan's stare returned to the wall in front of him "Lucius, ready a Battleship, load it with Basilisks droids and order the Daggers to board it and wait for me at the hangar…"

"You're sure about this?" Malak stood in front of Revan's stare, earning the Knight's attention "We're going to Malachor?"

Revan looked at his old friend.

"_I'm_ going to Malachor…" He grabbed his coat and looked at Colonel Yorimaek "I'm taking Lucius with me but the rest of you should remain here just in case the Senate or the Jedi Council decides to ask questions on a couple of missing ships…"

"Admiral Karath already handled it… The Senate thinks the Kraken is on a routine patrol on the Outer Rim…"

"I've made my mind, Malak…" Revan looked at his friend with tired eyes "Plus, I don't think you'll be able to handle what I must do…"

"What you must do?"

"Where is Master Kreia, my friend?" The room was silent. Confused faces stared at each other "The Mandalorians were not the only ones to betray us…"

"But…" Malak was shocked. Revan was talking about assassinating their old Master, a woman that had watched them growing up "You can't mean she's…"

"Think about it…" He put on his black coat "I know I was immobilized by a strong wielder of the Force… The Jedi gain nothing from Bastila's capture… It's the only possible explanation…"

"What about the Sith? They might…"

"The Sith _did_ kidnap Bastila, Malak…" Revan did not have the patience to fully explain to his best friend the extent of Kreia's treachery "And I'm going to get her back…"

Revan turned to face Dagger 038.

"I hope you had no friends amongst those men…"

"Some, my lord…" The Mandalorian looked at the General wearily "Why?"

Revan impassively looked at Coruscant's rising sun.

"Because…" He picked his curved lightsaber from the desk and placed it on his belt "By the end of the night the Vorm become extinct…"

* * *

Milo Vorm cursed himself in Mando'a. Metal boots thumping furiously the stone steps leading to his Clan's tower in the Trayus Academy. The blast doors hissed as a furious Mandalorian stormed his leader's office. 

"IS THIS THE MEANING OF HONOR TO YOU?" He yelled, earning a series of surprised looks from Mandalorian commanders. "Torturing a child?"

Titus Vorm remained silent.

"That girl is half your age!" He spat through his mask "That old witch and her puppet are killing her… We've made a pact of allegiance, for Mandalore's sake!"

The Mandalorian commanders looked down. Shame was present within every man in the room, but none had been brave enough to voice it.

"Sit down, Milo…" Titus Vorm leaned back on his chair "Pick up a glass of ale…"

"Did you hear anything I've said?" Milo Vorm approached the table "We've betrayed our sworn leader, and for what? So that hag and her eunuch could torture one of the few Jedi actually worthy of our respect…"

"Do not think that for a moment, my friend, I approve Lady Traya's actions…" His voice was firm, commanding. He picked up one of the blades he had taken from Revan's guards. The dagger glistened in the room's weak candlelight. "I do this so that our Lord, Revan, can break free from the restrains he's still bound to…"

The younger Mandalorian sat opposed to Titus in the metal table, head shaking in disbelief.

"Do you really believe that?" Milo looked at Titus' masked face "We've killed our share of innocents, Titus, but never imposed any unnecessary pain, especially to those deserving of our respect…"

"_Her pain_…" Titus used the dagger at his hand to point to the doorway "Is nothing but a path towards the Dark Side, or whatever they call it…"

"Dark side or not…" The younger man sighed "We've desecrated everything our culture stood for… We've lost our honor when we betrayed our Lord… We've broken tradition upon setting foot upon this cursed planet…"

Titus twirled the blade between his fingers, as he looked at the man amusingly.

"There's darkness in this place, sir…" Milo held his hands together and leaned forward on the table "The same darkness you say will empower Lord Revan has weakened us… For Mandalore's sake, how long do you think your deceit will last?"

Titus gripped the hilt of his blade.

"Right now, Revan must have heard she was taken to Malachor V… He probably even ordered a fleet to be assembled…" A small laugh escaped the masked man. "At that point, one of the Daggers might have told him there is _no need_ for a fleet to take over a deserted world… In fact, he might be heading this way right now… And when he arrives and kills all of us… What good will that do for the Mandalorian race?"

One of the commanders stepped forward.

"Sir… He's right…" The yellow armored man seemed embarrassed "Lord Revan will never forgive us…"

"COMPASSION IS A WEAKNESS!" Titus jammed the dagger on the metal table "Shall we stay and cower before the possibility of Lord Revan's coming? No! If he arrives we'll meet him head on with our swords at hand!"

"But for what?" Milo yelled "For what great purpose did we betray his trust?"

"We will serve him 'till death!" Titus stood up, yanking the dagger from the table and holding it inches from the man's head "We'll sacrifice ourselves so he can become powerful! After embracing the Dark, Lord Revan will crush Mandalore, and Republic leashes will no longer be able to hold his might!"

He plunged the dagger deep into the stone wall, bending it sideways until the blade broke. Looking at the hilt, he sniggered as he threw it over his shoulder.

"After the war is over the Republic will be as useless to Lord Revan as this hilt is to a warrior!" The armored man leaned over the table, bringing his face closer to Milo "There will be civil war…"

Titus moved away from the table, stopping in front of the Transparisteel window. He gazed Malachor V's hazy skies for a moment before looking at his men over his shoulder.

"And as long as Mandalorians breathe they will follow him…"

* * *

**Hyperspace – Aboard the Shogun frigate**

"Your clan is disgraced…"

Seven hundred black armored men stood in four lines along the Shogun's hangar. Their black capes hanging behind them, their rifles leaned against their shoulders… It would be a sight to make the strictest commander proud. But Revan was not proud…

"It has betrayed its code of allegiance to me…" He paced in front of the lines, looking at each man's hinged visor "Do you comply with that treachery?"

"No sir!" They replied in unison.

"Then how will you win back your honor?" He stopped before 38 "With words?"

"No sir!"

"With thoughts?"

"No sir!"

"No!" He screamed, continuing to walk through the line "You will regain your honor through your actions!"

He took a few steps away from the formation, looking at it as a whole.

"You will bathe the surface of that wretched planet with Mandalorian blood!" He pointed an accusing finger at each man "It will be up to you as to if the blood is yours or theirs! As long as a Vorm draws breath a Dagger will kill! Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes sir!"

"After tonight, you are no longer Vorm…" He crossed his arms over his chest, looking at each of them with determined eyes "You will hate the very memory of that name…"

"You are mine…" He continued "Subjects only to my will… If your death is my desire, you will expose your throats in obedience… Understood?"

"Yes sir!"

"Good…" He lowered his voice "Gentlemen, Malachor awaits us… Your ancestors warned you not to set foot on that planet and they were right…"

Revan allowed his lips to shape a malicious smile.

"As the first Clan to have defied that order will tonight be cast into oblivion…"

* * *

Malachor V's surface was barren, ruined… It is unknown if this lifeless shell was the planet's original environment, but since immemorial times only ravenous beasts and tainted species have inhabited its surface. 

The only trace of civilization, the slightest evidence of a planned building, was building complex. A necropolis of ancient teachings and fallen lords… A series of silver and black structures that, even seemingly abandoned for thousands of years, retained their impressive and colossal aspect.

Pyramids reached the clouds and Mastabas extended for a hundred miles. Despite its beauty, barely anyone dared approach the complex. _Barely anyone…_

Hundreds of tents extended for over a mile, as the Mandalorian camp took over the landscape of Malachor V. Close to five thousand warriors gathered there, waiting for their leader, Revan, to arrive.

What they did not know was that Revan was only five miles away from them, atop a cliff observing the camp's layout.

"Five thousand men…" Dagger 38 had his helm off and a cup of ale at his hand "Bit unfair don't you think?"

"Yeah…" Dagger 07 took a bite from a fruit "They won't have a shot… Isn't that right Lord Rev…? Lord Revan!"

Both men got to their feet. Revan was on his knees, with his hands around his abdomen.

"Are you alright, sir?"

Revan raised his masked face in 38's direction.

"Leave me be…"

"But sir…"

"Leave me!" As soon as he finished those words, the Republic General began to cough. Both Daggers' expressions carried a troubled frown. "Go back to the camp and tell the men to get ready… We'll attack within the next hour!"

The General coughed again, blood drops hitting the inside of his mask. The two armored men grabbed their belongings with concern in their eyes. After they left, Revan allowed himself a moment of weakness and took off his mask.

_They do not feel it…_ His breathing was scarcer, harder… Every intake of breath brought searing pain to the former Jedi. _The taint of the Dark Side is everywhere… Every living being in this cursed planet is infected… No…_

He punched the ground beneath him, opening his fists and grabbing a handful of dirt. His arms' strength faded, and he collapsed on his back. _Not infected…_ His blue eyes looked at the sky just as a lightning struck. _An infection would mean darkness to be a foreign element…_ His mouth was dry, despite the blood escaping through the side of his lips. _The Dark is a part of this place…_

He felt his strength fade, his eyes blur. _I'm dying_…

_Bastila…_ He gripped his neck, almost matching the marks left by Titus. Dark clouds hovered above him. **_Hmpf… Look at yourself, you pathetic fool! You have an obstacle, a challenge that must be overcome!_**

_Who is that?_

He could not see straight. The surface of Malachor became a deep shade. Grey shapes twirled with the wind. All winds converged on the former Jedi, as lighting came into and out of the man's body. Every rock nearby compressed, until breaking point, becoming nothing but dirt. The earth cracked and the trees died. Somewhere a ravenous beast began to howl…

_Am I dead?_

…

* * *

_**You are not dead…**_

The grey shapes remained there, but the pain was gone. He was still at Malachor, that much he could tell… Every substance was still there, but somewhat deteriorated… Corrupted… He looked at his clothes, suppressing a gasp. He was with Jedi robes. The same robes he wore the day he left Coruscant to join the war. He grabbed his throat, eyes widened.

There was no wind. No air, for that matter… He did not breathe nor felt the need to do so. He looked up.

The skies were red. Crimson contrasting with the deep blackness of the clouds, like rivers of blood flowing through rotten corpses.

_**But you will die if you don't listen to me…**_

Revan cautiously looked back. Standing a few feet away from him… was a black shape. A humanoid shape, but surrounded by some sort of black flame.

_Who are you?_ Revan got up _What are you?_

**_I, my friend…_** It raised an accusing finger **_…am you._**

The knight's face was stern, morose. It took him over twenty years, but he believed to have finally comprehended the true nature of the Force: He was the Force. And so was Malak, Kreia, Bastila, Titus, Lucius, 38… The Force was human, but it was also godlike. Even though not restrained by time or space, it was still passive to emotions. Like a coin, the Force has two sides that complement one another. There cannot be darkness without light, there cannot be light without darkness. Every culture understood it so, even if unknowingly. In Mandalorian Myth, the sloth god, Arasuum, fought constantly with the destroyer god, Kad Ha'rangir. One representing stagnation – the lack of emotions, the peace, the harmony the Jedi so fiercely defend, the other representing strength and change upon the universe – the Sith belief of empowerment through conquering. And now the dark side of himself ignited a red lightsaber.

_You are my darkness…_

_**I am…**_

_You wish to rule over me…_

**_Not rule, my friend…_** The shape swung the blade a few times next to his body, before holding it next to his hidden face **_Guide you… The dark can lead you to great things… Follow our path, and you will become the ruler of this galaxy…_**

The shape growled in anger at Revan's smirk.

_One who surrenders to his emotions is a fool…_

**_But one who ignores them is a greater fool…_**

_I do not ignore them…I embrace them, but I do not let them rule over me… What you ask of me is that I ignore my sense of judgment, my reason…_

**_Forsake your reason? No, kindred… The dark merely allows you to break free from your chains…_**

_My chains?_

_**You are bound by the light! **_

_The light does not bind me… Does not guide me… Does not rule over me…_

The shape was taken aback by that statement. Revan's smirk had turned to a full smile.

_You are not talking to me as Dark versus Light… You think I follow light's path? No. But nor will I follow your path… I am Revan…_

The knight seemed to grow before the black shape, arms folded across his chest.

_Scourge of the Mandalorians… Supreme Commander of the Republic Army… I walk my own path!_

_**Then you will die as the darkness of this planet consumes you! As long as you bear light in your soul!**_

_I will not die!_

Revan stepped closer to the shape. It took a step backwards, pointing the red blade at the knights' heart. He walked directly ahead, until the crimson saber reached his own body, disappearing into thin air. He grabbed the shape by the throat, dispersing the dark flame that surrounded it. The knight was disgusted with the sight. A perfect replica of himself, same height, weight, the scar between his eyes… Golden eyes…

He looked at his corrupted self, his dark half… Golden eyes, black lips, dead skin… Purple veins appeared from every corner of his face, rotten teeth gritted a deathly smile at the Knight.

_You are but a part of a whole! How dare you ask that I join you? You are me! I WILL NOT bend to the will of the Dark Side!_

He pushed the shape's head against his chest. His aura enveloped his distorted self, releasing a wave of black fire upon the Knight. No words could describe the guttural sound that left Revan's mouth.

* * *

As it had begun, it ended. The winds stopped blowing, the earth stopped shaking and the skies stopped screaming. Revan's Force presence was no longer a sea of calm waves flowing around him. It was a maelstrom of light and darkness, shifting constantly until you could no longer tell them apart. Indomitable, unwavering, unbreakable… _Revan was power…_

Dagger 38 and Dagger 07 returned to the edge of the cliff, backing away slightly upon setting eyes on their General. Revan was on his knees, arms outstretched looking into the sky. Smoke came out of his body as if he had been on fire, and the ground around him was darkened as if burned.

"My lord!" They approached "Are you alright? Shit!"

Dagger 07 retreated his hand right after laying it on Revan's shoulder. The heat emanating from the Knight's armor almost melted the man's Mandametal gauntlet.

"I will not bend to the will of the Dark…" Revan whispered, looking down at his own smoldering hands "_The Dark shall bend to my will…_"

"Sir?"

"07…"

"Yes sir…" Revan's voice was different. Despite having a deep voice, his tone had always been an informal one. He got up, standing a few inches above his men "What happened to you, sir?"

"An idea hit me…" He smiled "Literally speaking…"

"Which idea, my lord?"

"It's not important, 07… Come…" He placed his hood back over his head "It's time these traitors found out the price of their corruption…"

* * *

The lone figure of Revan Stormrider approached the Mandalorian camp. The storm minutes before had put them in full alert and now, over three hundred Mandalorians awaited for him at the camp's entrance. 

Cape flowing behind him, Revan was like a colossus heading towards a group of defenseless sheep. His armor looked different. The red tone that had adorned the metal alloys of his suit disappeared, replaced by the material's original color: a pale bronze. Unexplainably, it made it even more frightening. Perhaps the pale, prime color made him look like an ancient demon, an ethereal obstacle heading their way…

The man stopped close to a hundred feet away from them. He reached for his belt, drawing his curved lightsaber and igniting it.

"Remove yourselves…"

His voice was commanding, visceral. Each Mandalorian took a step back, drawing some sort of weapon.

"Very well…" He pointed the crimson blade to the Mandalorians "You chose your path…"

Laser cannons fired, shatter-missiles were launched and metal claws ripped flesh, armor as if nothing but a piece of cloth… Mandalorians screamed, as Revan's Basilisks descended upon them. Like raging Valkyries, they paved their way to Lord Revan's grace with their enemies' blood. Black armored maniacs with only death on their minds took over the battlefield, and Revan did not stand still…

His saber hung low, parallel to his leg, as he rushed forward unto the disoriented mass of Mandalorians. He spared his energy, dealing only fatal, clinical blows. A slight slash, ripping a man's airway to pieces… A sideway blow, taking a man's head, twirling his body afterwards to jam his blade beneath another man's chestplate.

He stepped backwards, as three Mandalorians stood shoulder-by-shoulder, swords forward, waiting to face him. He sniggered, raising an open palm before his face, closing it soon afterwards. The three men's helms contracted and a torrent of blood, bones and teeth came gushing out of their visors.

He laughed out loud, slashing sideways to sever a man's leg, finishing him off with a single blow to his visor. Several Mandalorians encircled him, waiting for the General to make a move. He did… Revan knelt, dropping his saber and closing both fists against his chest. His enemies never knew what had hit them, as a thunderstorm left Revan's fists and took out each and every one of them.

He heard himself grunt and looked down. One of the smoldered Mandalorians had somehow survived and now plunged a Vibrosword deep within his abdomen. He slashed the man's hands, using his armored boot to crush his skull. Revan yanked the blade from his body, using the Force to stop the bleeding.

Revan sped his movements through the Force. He jumped backwards as a thermal detonator took out a Basilisk war droid a few meters next to him. The Mandalorians' sheer numbers were beginning to counter his men's superior firepower. The man frowned beneath his mask, touching a comm. unit near his ear.

"Lucius…"

"Sir…"

"I need orbital support…" He ducked a second before a battle axe slashed at his head. He severed the man's hand, before slashing the back of his legs. The Mandalorian fell to his knees, and only a small grunt left his mouth before falling backwards, his heart crushed. "Idiot…"

"My lord?"

"Not you, Lucius…" He kicked a man in the abdomen "I need you to throw everything you've got at this camp…"

"They'll hit you, sir…"

"Don't be stupid…" A concussion grenade blew up a few feet away from him "I won't die, now do it!"

"But your men, sir… They'll…"

"Acceptable casualties, Colonel…" Revan knew it was risky to bombard his own position, but so was using Ataru in a mass of professional warriors… Revan knew the odds, he took his chance "Are we understood, Colonel?"

"Y-Yes, sir…" Revan heard the Colonel's breathing through their link "Get small there, sir… It'll be hell out there for at least ten minutes…"

"If you don't hurry we'll be there in much less time…"

* * *

"Arrhg!" 

Her voice was weaker. She could feel her strength fading.

"Why?" She stared at the woman in front of her "Why are you doing this?"

Another Force Lightning left Kreia's hand, hitting the young woman in the middle of her chest. The pain was fast becoming too much for her to bear and only her last shred of dignity stopped her from crying for help. Sion kicked her in her abdomen.

"How pathetic…" His voice showed nothing but contempt "Is 'why' all you can say?"

Kreia smiled.

"Why, you ask me?" The older woman approached the Jedi "Because only you could draw Revan into this planet…"

"Rev…"

"You don't feel it…" Sion said, humorously "This place is tainted… Every Force user that sets foot upon Malachor V will be attacked by its darkness…"

"Malachor V was an ancient war post for the long lost Sith Empire…" The young Jedi was thrown against the ceiling of the cave "The True Sith… The true Emperors…"

The young woman looked at her former master in a mix of hatred and pain. The uneven rock formations pierced her back, shattering bones and ripping skin. Kreia's Force grip on Bastila was released, and the Jedi fell hard against the stone floor.

The earth shook, rocks feel from the ceiling.

"Hmm… Is this? Yes… He arrives much sooner than expected…" Kreia frowned in disapproval "Again I am forced to anticipate my plans… Sion, you know what to do…"

Bastila shivered in fear. She got up, using the strength she had left to attack the bald man. It did no good. Sion quickly dodged her punches, using the back of his hand to slap her across the face. He held her down against the floor… Bastila expected the worst.

She hid no surprise as the man deactivated her Force suppression collar. Her instant feeling of relief, however, was short lasting, as the moment she reached out into the Force, searching for Revan, Malachor's darkness enveloped her.

Her soul was ripe for the taking. The dark found no barriers, no resistance… It harbored itself on her new feelings of hatred and fear. She screamed as her emotions suddenly turned against her. Her love became an instrument for fear to feed on… Tears fell from her eyes, she began to despair. But then she found him…

Revan…

He was here…

* * *

Revan fell on his knees. An overwhelming sense of pain took over his body. He checked his body for a cause, but found none. His eyes widened, sensing a presence within himself he had not felt since… 

"Bastila…"

She was in pain. Agonizing pain… He tightened the grip on his lightsaber and stood up. He darted forward, through hundreds of Mandalorians, butchering everything in sight. He had been shot three times and stabbed by at least a dozen blades, but Revan felt nothing. Rage blinded him, love drove him…

Drove him to the entrance of the Trayus Academy…

Drove him to Titus Vorm…

The Academy was an impressive structure. Much like the rest of the Necropolis, the building was made to awe those who approached it, but also turn away those who thought of entering it. Revan knew the entrance would be well guarded, and he was not disappointed. A dozen Mandalorians stood by its steps, aiming blasters at him. Behind those, his old friend, Titus Vorm, calmly held an old-fashioned Greatsword that had to weight, the knight thought, at least twenty kilograms. As all in all clan leaders, a cape hung attached to his shoulder plates, ever so slightly rocking back and forth with Malachor's winds.

"Traitor…" The word sounded more like an acknowledgement than a spiteful comment. Revan pointed his crimson saber at him "Ready to die?"

Titus raised his sword, holding it over his face, the metal blade following the vertical line of his visor. He took a deep breath and tightened the grip on his sword.

"For you, my lord…" He turned sideways and held his sword besides his chest "I'll sacrifice myself gladly…"

"Humpf…" Revan smiled beneath his mask "Believe what you will…"

He jumped forward, the Mandalorians opened fire… He dodged as many shots as he could, but some were able to penetrate his now battered armor. His right knee was aching, his abdomen wound had opened, and there was a shard of metal within his left shoulder… Revan was physically broken, but it was his soul that hurt the most. His pain was but a splinter compared to what Bastila was feeling. He knew it. He felt it.

He cut a rifle in half before slashing a Mandalorian's knee and plunging his saber in the back of the man's neck. The fight continued, until there were only two men left standing: A soldier and his General.

Revan's mask had been shattered, his hood had been torn apart and he had lost all feeling on his left arm. The bronze and dark grey of his armor now contrasted with the deep crimson of his blood. Yet his dignity remained unscratched. It is always surprising how in moments of true desperation, human beings grow stronger. Revan was torn and broken, yet his presence nearly overwhelmed Titus.

This man killed hundreds of Mandalorians, he thought, thousands even, yet he is but a fragile human being. What made him more than human? Certainly not his appearance… Revan was a normal man. He was only 1.85 meters tall. A reasonably big height for a human man, but nothing out of the ordinary for a Mandalorian… Was it his courage? His strength?

No… Not his strength, at least not his physical vigor… His braveness. He was just an ordinary man, yet he stood up to any Mandalorian who dared meet him, and prevailed! Indeed, as the day Titus first met him, the first impression you get from Revan is not his look, but his name. He's Revan. Revan the General, Revan the Warrior, Revan the Mighty!

Revan… His murderer...

Titus made the first move. His Greatsword slashed sideways, passing barely an inch from Revan's throat. The knight jumped over him, kicking his back and slashing his crimson blade downwards. The Mandalorian blocked the blow and used his superior strength to push Revan against the Academy's doors.

The knight ducked, sliding under Titus' legs. The Mandalorian barely had the time to parry, as a huge rock was thrown at him. Revan's little Force trick was the distraction the knight needed, and so he plunged his lightsaber deep into Titus thigh.

The Mandalorian growled, but on the inside he was smiling. His gloved fist punched Revan with a strength he did not believe to possess. Blood fell from the knight's mouth, and yellow glinted in his eyes.

"Surrender, my lord…" Titus looked down "You are unarmed…"

Revan's saber was still on Titus' thigh. The knight laughed, getting up. He leaped forward, grabbing the Mandalorian's head with both his hands.

"My lightsaber is only a part of me…" His face was inches away from Titus' helm. A flicker of light appeared from Revan's fingers "As you shall very well attest to…"

It is hard to explain the agonizing pain felt by Titus. Lightning left each of Revan's fingers, penetrating deeply into his armor, a huge metal conductor that completely encased the man. For well over a minute, Titus was silent. It is not known if he remained so from dignity, or sheer inability to do so, as his throat was also deeply wounded.

So Titus Vorm fell… He had no last words, but as both men kneeled facing each other in exhaustion, Titus punched his chestplate in respect, tumbling forward soon after.

The Knight Revan simply stood there, allowing a lonely tear to be shed for his friend.

* * *

"He's here…" Kreia looked at the doorway, recognizing the face of the man she once cared about as a son. "Came for your beloved Bastila?" 

Revan's face betrayed no emotion. Bastila laid flat on her back, grabbing her own throat while extending a hand in his direction, asking for his help… Her mouth was open, a mix of tears, blood and saliva covering her face. The knight looked at the Force suppression collar, a few meters from his loved one… His jaw shook in uncontained rage.

"I did that…" A bald man spoke up, a twisted smirk on his face "I used this Force-whip on your beloved little girl… I broke her, then I…"

"Silence…" Revan's voice was cold. His eyes were no longer golden, but neither blue… Green eyes stared deeply into Kreia's mind "You led her towards the abyss…"

"Hmm, yes…" A wicked smile took over Kreia's features. Her hand pointed at the Force suppression collar "Then I unleashed the gush of wind that would cause her fall…"

Revan began to approach his loved one. Sion's Force-whip lunged forward, straight into Revan's path. The Knight calmly raised his arm to parry the attack. The bald man laughed as Revan's arm was trapped within the whip's energized chains.

The Knight's face was stoic. To human skin, the pain caused by the Force-whip was unbearable. To a Cortosis alloy, it was but a scratch. Revan's hand firmly gripped the energized chains, snatching the whip out of Sion's hand. Before the bald man had the chance to know what was going on, Revan grabbed the whip's hilt in mid air, and swung it at the man's face.

Sion's right eye was simply crushed. The man pointlessly tried to cover the blood drenched socket… He cried not in pain, but enraged. Sion was so worried about his wound he did not see Revan right in front of him. He heard it… The unmistakable sound of a lightsaber…

He raised his arm to parry an upcoming blow. Revan's crimson saber burned through his forearm, letting it hang limply by an inch of skin. Sion threw a desperate punch at Revan, but the Knight quickly dodged it, landing a well placed kick at the back of the man's knees. He fell on his knees, opening his left eye in time to see the bottom of Revan's boot. Sion was on his back, breathing hard, with Revan standing on top of him.

"You send an apprentice to kill me…" Revan looked at his former master "Have you not the nerve to kill me yourself?"

"Kill you?" Kreia stepped closer to Bastila "Don't be a fool… I never wanted you dead…"

"Tell it to this guy…" Revan looked at the fallen man in disgust, holding out his hand as if reaching for something in mid-air. The Force suppression collar flew directly to his hand "Time to make the beast somewhat docile…"

Revan stepped on Sion's forehead, something that made his empty eye socket gush a wave of blood on the Knight's boot. The bald man tried to kick Revan away from him.

"Behaving like a child, are you?" Sion screamed as Revan's saber slowly cut through his thighs. The knight smiled "Hold still, or I'll hurt you…"

Bastila stood up, drawing Revan's attention. She approached him, looking straight into Sion's good eye. The knight was concerned. Only a moment before his loved one was lying on the floor with her hand on her throat. He tried to talk to her, but she completely ignored him, her voice faltering as she addressed the fallen man.

"I shall be the one that kills you…" She kicked him in the face, his teeth and blood taking over the ground beside him "Mark these words, you wretched man!"

"Bast! Calm down!" Revan turned her away from the man. He knelt next to Sion, who was almost unconscious, and placed the Force suppression collar on his neck. He turned around, but was stopped. Bastila was on his arms, crying on his chest "Bast… Just… Hang on…" He looked at Kreia "I have something to deal with, first…"

Revan calmly walked closer to his former master, powering off his lightsaber.

"Explain yourself…"

"I need not explain myself…" Kreia scolded him "You feel your power rising with every spiteful feeling you bear… Your fall shall ultimately lead to your rise!"

"Fall?" He calmly said, as Bastila stood next to him. He looked at her eyes and cupped her face with his hand "I did not fall… And neither did her…"

Bastila's eyes were mainly golden, but the knight smiled as he saw, like his, a small shade of green within her. He kissed her lightly on her lips.

"We're both stronger than you…" Revan did not turn away from the woman in front of him. Their bond reopened, the two lovers took pleasure in mixing their souls, taking full advantage of their bond. Revan healed Bastila's back, and Bastila healed Revan's arm. "We embraced our darkness, but did not turn away from the light…"

"Our lessons are done, Master…" Bastila smiled sadly and turned around, heading for the cave's exit. "Forgive me if I don't say I'll miss you…"

Revan also turned his back to the old woman, but Kreia took a step forward, yelling in frustration.

"Do you truly think the Republic will simply embrace you after the war is over?" Revan stopped, still with his back turned to her "The Jedi will exile you from the Republic!"

"I know…" Revan still had a calm voice "And I don't care…"

"The Republic shall perish without you!"

"What?" Revan turned around, looking at Kreia suspiciously "What do you mean by 'perish'?"

"When you exit this room, make a turn to the left and enter the Trayus Core…" She smiled, knowingly "You shall see for yourself…"

Revan turned around and began to leave. Kreia followed him.

"You will need me, Revan…" Her words were confident, but her aura showed otherwise "You will see… When you forge your empire out of the ashes of the Republic, you shall need my assista-Hughl!"

Revan had at last turned around. In a blink of an eye, the young man ignited his saber, plunging it deeply into his former Master's heart. Bastila's eyes widened. She had hated the old woman for putting her through this ordeal, but to kill her? Without her, Bastila would not have perfected Battle Meditation… Without her, Revan would not have been half the knight he is now…

"I only need one person by my side…" Revan's voice was calm, yet commanding. "And she's standing by that door…"

He powered off his saber, letting the woman's limp body fall on the stone floor. He turned around, as three Dagger soldiers entered the room, weapons at hand. Bastila kicked one of them in the stomach and ran to where Revan was standing.

"No, no!" He held her, caressing her hair "They're on our side… 38, your report?"

"Just a minute, sir…" Dagger 38 looked at the small dent at his armor "Quite a kick you have there, my lady…"

The Mandalorian looked at Sion.

"Is this?"

"No… It's not Malak…"

"Oh… Well, my lord…" He straightened his back and punched his own chestplate in respect "We've managed to isolate them on a corner of the Necropolis, Colonel Yorimaek should begin bombarding them any minute now…"

"Good…"

"With your permission, sir… We'd like to bury them, afterwards…"

"A proper funeral? To Traitors?"

"My lord, we…"

"Ah, do as you please…" Revan placed his hand on Bastila's waist "But strip them of their armor, first…"

"Yes, sir…"

"And communal ditches…" He lowered his head "Except for Titus… Bury him with all your honors, and do not strip him of his armor…Make sure his Greatsword is with him…"

"Yes, my lord…" The Dagger looked at the fallen Sith "And them?"

"Give her a proper burial… But him…" Revan walked to where the Force-whip was. He handed 38 the torture instrument "Be inventive…"

"As you command, my lord…"

The knight left the room, holding Bastila's hand. Like he wanted it to be… Like it was meant to be…

* * *

"Whatever it is… I want you to stay away from it…" 

Revan looked at the so-called Trayus Core. It stood on the bowels of earth, inside the mountain, right on top of an active volcano. An altar of some sorts, both Jedi could feel this demonic structure was the center of Malachor's darkness, a bastion to all things corrupt.

"If you're walking into that thing, Revan…" Bastila grabbed her lover's head, turning it so he could look into her eyes "So am I…"

"If it's a trap, you're in no condition to withstand it…" Revan cupped her cheeks in his hands, wiping the dried blood and tear marks away "If it's not… You'll see it through our bond…"

Revan darted forward before she could protest. The moment he stepped into the first ring of 'thorns', it lit up. The volcano shook the ground, and a deep red light took over the room. Revan was pushed to the center of the altar by an invisible force. He knelt, eyes widened as his mind began to expand, to encompass every bit of knowledge ever obtained by the Sith… The True Sith…

_A planet…Far away…Arid, it seemed, but with many oceans. A great city, home to millions… A fortress on its center… It was the tallest building in sight. The sun shone brightly at its black walls, making several writing patterns visible… It is not in any language I recognize… Inside its walls, an army… Some humans led it, but the foot soldiers… It is something I had never seen. Huge biped creatures, with thorns and fangs… Their small eyes gave them a wise, yet primal look… The look of a predator… Millions of those… Tens of millions… On a platform, sitting on golden thrones, a group of old, almost decrepit, men observed their forces with pleasure in their eyes. Their skin was pale… No… Not pale… Grey, dark, deathlike… A council of elders, of some sort… No… Not elders… Lords… Sith Lords… This is not within Republic space…This is not within known space… Knowledge… En-tering… My mind…Arrg… By the Ancient Alderaanian Gods! I had no idea I could do such things using the Force… What is that? A style of swordfight… Not past… Future… It is fast, but somewhat rash… Am I seeing the Future? That army… It's attacking Coruscant! An old Jedi, similar to Master Vandar is trying to fight them… He dies trying… Coruscant is burned! The Senate house is destroyed! Civilians are enslaved! No… This cannot be the future… **This shall not be the future!** What is that? A map of some sorts… It's underwater… Which planet is that? Wait a minute, now it's in an ancient building… No… These are several different maps…Now it's in the middle of a huge forest… Now a cave… Come on give me any kind of indication of where these maps are! Wait… That's a Sith Tomb… The writing on it is unmistakable… Korriban… It's the valley of the Dark Lords… The Jedi Council forbids any man to walk near it… I must investigate, I must know where these maps lead to… Pain… Unbearable pain… What the hell is goin…_

"Arrhg!"

His mind was thrown out of that vision. He opened his eyes… His sight was blurred, but he could tell the red light surrounding him was gone. Bastila, where was she? He turned around, only to find her flat on her back, passed out.

"Bastila!"

He ran to her side, holding her in his arms.

"Bastila… Are you alright?" He slapped her face, ever so slightly "Talk to me…"

Bastila's eyes slowly began to open. He kissed her lips, picking her up and carrying her through the halls of the Academy…

* * *

"You saw it too…" Revan and Bastila were aboard the Shogun, the knight's former Frigate. The battle had taken place over five hours before, but only now they had been able to relax and tend to their wounds. "My vision… You saw it…" 

"I did…" Bastila was wearing thin bathrobe, sitting on a king-sized bed "Do you truly believe what you saw was the future?"

"Ask the Force... You'll get your answer..." Revan was only wearing cotton sweatpants, the scars on his chest were testaments to the fierceness of the combat a few hours before. He sat next to her, rubbing her shoulders tenderly "We can't let that happen to the Republic… Kreia was right…"

"Kreia…" Bastila whispered the old Master's name "You shouldn't have killed her… We could use her council…"

"What is done, is done, Bastila…" Revan's stare was firm "All my life she manipulated me… She must have believed me to be a fool if she thought I never realized it… I speak so from experience, Bastila, behind her every action, there was a hidden intention…"

"She was your Master, nonetheless…"

"_Was_, Bastila…" He grabbed her shoulders, turning her to face him "I never bothered when she tried to manipulate me… But when she took you away…"

"By the Force…" Bastila looked down as tears began to fall from her eyes "We truly have fallen… Sion was also right… I am pathetic…"

"Do not say that…" He held her in his arms "You are Bastila Shan, Colonel of the Republic… One of the few Jedi to ever master Battle Meditation…"

"I'm your weakness, Revan!" She yelled. The Knight was taken aback by that comment "If the Mandalorians captured me and locked me up in the center of a massive fleet you'd come after me!"

"Of course I would!"

"Listen to yourself…" She caressed his face "Don't you remember your speech to the Academy students? You honestly believe you would be able to sacrifice me for the good of the Republic?"

Revan stared down. He had never thought about the actual situation, but his answer was the same one he had given the students.

"I don't know…"

"Exactly…" Her voice was nearly a whisper "I'm your weakness Revan… The weakest link of the chain…"

He smirked, much to her irritation.

"What are you smiling about?"

"Ever heard of the Spartans?"

"Oh, Force, not another history lesson…"

"No, no… Listen to this…" He held her hands, his smirk never leaving his face "The Spartans believed that in every formation, it was wise to have a rookie trooper… An inexperienced soldier… A weakest link…"

"What the hell does this hav…"

"They believed…" He interrupted her "That with that weakness, all other soldiers fought twice as hard to compensate for that flaw…"

She stared him, understanding what he meant, but still not believing it.

"Bastila, you are not my weakness… If anything, you make me stronger…" He smiled, hugging her. He flinched as he felt the scars on her back "By the Force… If anything happened to you this war would be over in the blink of an eye…"

"And you don't want that?" She said, smiling. All her worries seemed to have gone away.

"And where's the fun in that?" He laughed "Now, sleep… You've had a horrible day, and tomorrow we shall head back to Coruscant…"

"You'll be here?"

"I've got to talk to 38 about something but after it… Well, let's say I could use a good night's sleep as well…"

Revan kissed her on her lips, turning off the room's light before leaving.

"Ah!" He yelled, surprised. Revan looked at the man "38, have you been standing here all this time?"

"I have, my lord…"

"You didn't hear anything I spoke of in there, did you?"

"Not a word, sir… But if I may say…" He looked around to see if no one was looking "Nice talking on the Spartan bit…"

"38, has anyone ever called you a son of a bitch?"

"Ha!" He laughed out loud. Despite Revan's reproving tone, the knight's face bore a wide grin "I'll tell my mother you said hello, sir…"

"Oh, stop this nonsense…" He started to walk through the hallway "I need you and 07 to go on a mission for me…"

"Your wish is my command, sir…"

"It'll be dangerous, and I'll give you the details tomorrow, but I need you two to have your Basilisks prepared to take off by 0900 standard time…"

"It shall be done, sir…" He saluted his superior "May I ask where we're heading off to?"

Revan sighed and looked down. It was a step he had to take, and he was already too far from the point of no return.

"Korriban…" He watched the man's surprised look "I need you to head to Korriban…"

* * *

**Author's Notes: Good God, I've finally finished this… This is certainly my biggest chapter (over 25 pages on Word) and I hope you guys enjoy it. There are some parts I'm not so happy about but right now I don't think I can improve it… Maybe after my first round of college exams, this semester… Oh, who am I kidding… possibly only after the fic is done.**

**You may have noticed the Story Title has changed... Well, this story is only part 1 of at least 3 (possibly 4) stories I intend to write, so I thought I should add that to the Title. Plus, there are other stories called 'Power of Choices' and its variables... So I want to make this one at least a bit different...**

**Second chapter of my Neverwinter Nights fic almost done…**

**Read and Review**

**Cheers,**

**Brazilian Sith Lord.**

_**Currently reading: Shogun – by James Clavell**_

**_Currently listening to: Mithotyn – In The Sign of the Ravens_**


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: ****Don't own it…**

**Chapter 13 ****– Interlude (pt 1)**

Revan stared at the woman he hoped he would spend the rest of his life with. Her chest rising ever so slightly with each intake of breath seemed to help him forget the challenges he needed to face. The image still scorched his mind like a painful memory. The Dark Lords… The one in the center of the thrones, his pitch black eyes seemed to stare at him. He needed to stop them, but how? How could a single Jedi Knight stop those… creatures? How could the Republic army counter that menace? They were millions, tens of millions… It was hard enough to convince the Senate to conscript an army of five million men, who would he need to sleep with to get twenty million men? The Knight chuckled at the thought, but happiness was far from his mind. The Senate was too slow, too bureaucratic… It was a system that had survived for over ten thousand years. It was a system that was in dire need of change, if the Republic was to be saved.

But what was the Republic? Did the money-hungry politicians really represent the will of the people? As it stood now, the average citizen quite frankly wouldn't mind who would be in control, as long as they were allowed to live their lives and earn their money peacefully. However, that possibility did not exist with the Mandalorians. They burned and killed their way into the galaxy. There were no innocent civilians, 'those not with us, are against us'. The Jedi called it a Sith principle, but if you think it over, every civilization in history used that ideal. And, if you chose to look elsewhere, so did the Jedi order.

What in the name of Vandar was he thinking? Surely, he didn't mean to become the tyrant senator Voys so vehemently accused him of being, did he? Empowerment over conflict… A Sith precept that could very well be used in this situation. In war times, Democracy just didn't work.

_Look at yourself, you fool…_ he thought. _You make plans about the future, when there's a war at your gates. Or do you believe that little skirmish at Dxun was the end to the Mandalorian advance?_

Dxun… It all seemed easier, then. Kill the Mandalorians, push them out of Republic territory, and it all would end well, with him and Bastila receiving a commendation from the Senate. Was he really that innocent, that naive? Strange how ideals were born with a war, but always died during it. He entered the war eager to fight it, but now he couldn't wait for it to end.

He was shaken from his thoughts by a pair of emerald green eyes, though slightly red.

"How long have I been asleep?" She asked through blurry eyes "W… Where are we?"

"As for the first question…" He smiled "Not much, close to twenty hours… As for the second question: We're at the med-bay on the Academy…"

"Academy?" Her eyes widened "Officers' Academy? O-On Coruscant?"

"Yep, that one…"

She sat up, looking at the plain white nightgown she wore. The sterilized room would seem cold to a normal person, but to Bastila, it looked like a home she had not seen for quite some time. Tears came to her eyes.

"We're home?"

"We're home…" He answered her question with a weight on his heart. The memory of what she had been through was still fresh on his mind. He wiped a lonely tear that threatened to fall from one of her eyes, caressing her cheek in the process. The relief was evident in her face, as she lied back onto the bed "You should rest… The Kolto could only do so much… There are still some heavy drugs in your system…"

"I've slept long enough…" She said, though her eyelids were once again closed. "Are the others here?"

"Serra has been dying to see you, but I've asked her to wait until you were fully recovered…" He smiled. She wasn't listening to him; her chest was once again rising with her peaceful breathing, and a smile took over her features "She can wait a little longer…"

Revan got to his feet. He was wearing a dark blue Jedi robe, the loose cloth feeling like a rest from the restrains of an armor weighting over twenty pounds. He picked up a small datapad on a counter, reading the updates on Bastila's conditions. He didn't lie to her when he said the Kolto couldn't handle all of her wounds. Two of her ribs were broken in three different places and her wrist had several slight fractures. The superficial cuts and bruises were mostly dealt with by Revan's healing, but there were pieces of stone within her skin, and those had to be removed by the doctors at the Academy. He had lied, however, when he had told her she had been asleep for twenty hours. Three days had passed since the last time Bastila had opened her eyes, and Revan had spent every second by her side. But now he was hungry, tired, and in dire need of a drink.

He stepped into the sterilizing chamber and pressed a button on a small computer screen next to him. His mind seemed to wander off as the door behind him sealed shut, and a second glass doorway opened up to the bright light of the Academy's hallway. He took a few steps forward, still thinking about Bastila's condition, until a pair of hands grabbed his shoulders and turned him around.

"How is she?" Serra Ors had eyes just as red as Revan's. Being a childhood friend of Bastila, the former Padawan had sat there, outside the room, hating herself for not following the man in his incursion on Malachor "Answer me, how is she?"

"Calm down, Serra…" He gently lowered her hands, rubbing the sides of her arms in the process. He spoke in a soothing tone, like that one would use while speaking to a child "Right now she's sleeping, but she woke up a while ago and even talked to me… I really need to shake the hand of her doctor; he's done a hell of a job looking after her…"

"Can I see her?" Her voice shook with a mix of anticipation and worry "Please, Rev…"

"Shh…" He laid his index finger above her lips. He smirked amusingly at the young woman before him. "Go…"

Serra needed no further instruction. Revan could see her impatience as she stood on the sterilizing chamber.

"I really should pay more attention to the friends I have…" His eyes remained on the infirmary entrance. As the blast doors closed, the former Knight turned around "Don't you think?"

"I do…" Malak approached his friend, laying a comforting hand on Revan's shoulder "Something tells me right now you need a friend more than anything…"

"Second to a good drink, though…" Revan hugged his friend. To a stranger, it would seem like a reunion of friends who had spent a lifetime apart. "Old friend, old friend… Since when did life become so complicated?"

"Puberty, I guess…" They both laughed. Malak was glad to see his friend smiling again. He was afraid the trip to Malachor would have changed him "I always wondered why you spent all that time in the bathroom…"

"Oh, please… You threw the hardest punch in Dantooine not because of the weights you lifted, but because of the amount of time you spent _practicing your grip…_"

"The conversation has become so low…"

"It has, hasn't it?"

"Can I offer you that drink you asked for?"

"Sure…"

"Corellian…"

"You're buying?"

"Yep…"

"Tarisian, then… I need the kick…"

* * *

"What happened on Malachor, Revan?"

And so, the question was asked. Revan stared at his half filled glass, twirling it around and letting the ice cool off the potent drink. He didn't smile, he didn't frown. His face remained stoic. They were sitting on the floor, by the window of Revan's office, perhaps the only peaceful place within the Academy, where the two friends could actually exchange a few words without being disturbed. They had chatted about unimportant matters for over an hour, but now Malak felt the younger Knight was ready to quell his doubts.

"I freed myself from my chains…" Revan gazed beyond the trasparisteel window before him. Looking at the millions of vehicles rushing past him, the Knight felt small… Like a grain of sand at the belly of a gigantic beast, called the Galactic Republic. His thoughts returned to the decrepit Sith Masters. Who was he to believe he could make a difference. _He was power…_ The events of Malachor rushed through his mind, and a deep sadness began to envelop him. He covered his face with both hands "…and trapped myself within a cage far more sinister…"

"Malachor is forever stained with darkness…" He continued "Upon setting foot on the planet, the taint attacked me…"

Malak did not dare to speak. His friend needed someone to talk to, someone who would actually listen to his concerns, not an interrogator and certainly not a judge.

"I did not fall…" Malak felt like the world was being lifted from his shoulders. "But I did not leave Malachor unscathed… I embraced my darker half, but did not cast away the light within me… I am neither black, nor white; I am gray, Malak… A _Gray Jedi_…"

He stared deeply at Revan's eyes, and for the first time noticed his friend's emerald gaze.

"Do I need to ask you not to speak about this with anyone else?"

"No…" He was a bit stunned "But, I don't think it would matter that much… The Council wants to fight off the darkness and the Sith… I don't think a Gray Jedi would represent that much of a threat…"

"It is even a bigger threat than the Sith, Malak… All our lives we were told how the only path apart from the Jedi way was the darkness of the Sith…" Revan rested his head against the window "But a Gray Jedi, one that follows neither path, but forges his own destiny... It is a threat to both Jedi and Sith!"

Revan watched as his friend sadly stared at the ground beneath him.

"After surviving Malachor's attack, I unleashed the Daggers upon the Vorm clan… We took no prisoners… And then I found Bastila…" Revan's gaze was fixed at a blank spot behind Malak's head "I truly hope you never find yourself in my position, old friend… To see what you treasure more than your own life, your loved one, tortured… Tortured until she was a weak and fragile thing on the ground, bloodied and covered in filth… Then seeing your former Master, the woman who educated you, who watched as you grew up, standing beside her…"

"Bastila grasped her throat as if she couldn't breathe… But it was the same darkness that attacked me, the same thing that turned me into what I am now… Malachor lunged at her and took advantage of her rage… But yet again, there was no fall…" Revan smiled sadly "For her rage could not take over the brightest of all feelings: Love…"

"So, Bastila…"

"Is the same as I…"

"And Master Kreia…"

Revan could not look at his friend's eyes "Can harm us no longer…"

"Revan, Revan…" Malak shifted uncomfortably. He laid his left hand on his friend's shoulder "You didn't have to kill her… It didn't have to be this way…"

"It did, Malak… My whole life directed me towards it…" Revan rubbed his gloved hands together. For a while, he shared his friend's concerns, feeling Kreia's death was pointless. No longer "She raised us, taught us more than the Jedi order would call appropriate… She always pointed out that life was reasonably short for us, humans, and that boundaries and rules, even though important in everyday life, would inexorably be broken by those that had risen above them…"

"I remember her saying 'rules are thresholds to be crossed'…"

"Exactly…" Revan smiled sadly at his friend "We learned that lesson all too well, Malak… Kreia always believed rules to be chains that would be broken at the right time… We were strong enough to break away from the Jedi when the war came…"

"And you believed you were strong enough to break away from Kreia…"

"I_ knew it_ so, Malak… She taught me how to break free from the Jedi teachings, yet she sought to have me controlled by her wishes… Her life was based on it!" His voice grew to almost a shout and an ice cube flew away from his glass after a rather brisk arm movement "She preached against control, only to reign over our lives and desires… She _manipulated_ us, Malak! She would continue to do so until the day she died…" His face became grim "I simply anticipated the inevitable…"

Malak covered his face with his hands "I fear for our souls, my friend, if we can be so inconsequential as to call murder 'anticipating the inevitable'…"

"Malak, let's not be childish… We've murdered before…" Revan seemed inpatient. He got up grabbing a crystal bottle and pouring another dose of Tarisian ale into his glass "Or do you truly believe every Mandalorian you've killed was an act of self defense?"

"That's not the point!"

"That's exactly the point!" Revan moved the chair away from his desk, so that he could face his Jedi friend "You've grown to the point that the act of killing is not frowned upon… You believe that your own sense of reasoning makes every death you cause a legitimate one… And you're right to do so!" He adjusted himself on the leather seat "It is no different that my actions at Malachor… Kreia became a menace, a foe, a thorn at my side… Not unlike any Mandalorian we've killed on the Outer Rim… The fact she had known us since our childhood does not change that…"

Malak opened his mouth, but no words left it. He frowned and looked at the floor. He had entered the room to know more about Revan, but now he couldn't wait for the young knight to shut up. It was too much information for him to digest on such a small period of time.

"Malak, what I did can't be undone… I can't bring the dead back to life… If I did, I'd be on the holonet, spreading a fake religion and making money out of it…" He noticed his friend chuckle, and smiled "I'm not asking for your approval, my friend… I'm asking that you try to understand my motives before you judge me… But more than that…" He left his chair and knelt by his friend "Right now I'm asking you if you're still with me…"

"You shouldn't have to ask me that…"

"But I am asking you all the same…"

Malak sighed "I'll follow you until the edge of that abyss, Revan… But… I just won't take that final step…"

Revan stood up, waiting for his friend to do the same. The Knight held his friend by the shoulder, and embraced him.

"I'd never ask you more than that…"

* * *

"Shit… Did you see that monster?"

38 leaned back against a stone obelisk. The Valley of the Dark Lords was deserted, when one thought of human lives. But in the absence of those, wild beasts ruled over the surface of Korriban unchallenged. Lured by the darkness, Tuk'ata hounds, Hssiss dragons and Shyracks swarmed the halls of the several Sith tombs. The whole planet was a deadly trap, one 38 and 07 were ordered to fall into. They had brought with them a small army of combat droids, but only half of those remained operational after a week. The pair had fought their way through most of the tombs on the valley, but now one stood as a threshold seemingly impossible to overcome: The ancient tomb of Naga Sadow.

"What the hell is that thing?" 07 wiped the sweat away from his forehead, a waste of water on a planet with little to none of it "It looks like a Rancor, but it's too big, and those fangs, and spines… We've already lost three battledroids to that one, and from the looks of its lair, it has a mate…"

"From what Lord Revan has told us, the map is inside one of these tombs…" 38 removed a small datapad from a pouch on his waist. After pressing some buttons, a large holographic map appeared before the two Mandalorians. "The droid scouts have found no trace of civilized buildings outside this valley, and we've checked every single tomb here… It has to be that last one…"

"Though we never managed to clear that other one… Huh… The one with the ghost… What was his name again?"

"Ajunta Pall…" The holo-image faded. 38 wrapped the datapad on a leather strap, placing the device back on his pouch "The droids we sent made it to the final tomb, until that ghost destroyed them…"

"So I guess this is it, then…" 07 took a small canteen filled with water from his pack. "We should contact Lord Revan and inform him of our current situation. He'll deal with that monster…"

"If anyone can, it's him…"

The pair began to walk away from the entrance of Naga Sadow's tomb, until their camp came into view. The command center was a tent as big as a small manor, surrounded by several mini encampments, made to keep the heavy corrosion of the desert from the plating and circuits of the battle droids. The two Mandalorians let out a sigh of relief, as the refrigerating system of the main tent cooled off their sweaty skin and clothes. They had found that, on the desert of Korriban, an armor did more harm than good, and that light fabrics, covering almost their entire bodies, was the best defense against the almost 48°C heat. 38 sat himself in front of a large holographic screen, surrounded by hundreds of electronic equipments that varied from radar and defense mechanisms, to sensors, made to check the amount of humidity in the air. The Dagger pressed a large green button by the side of his chair, and a huge holographic figure, the crest of the Galactic Republic, appeared before him.

"Dagger command, this is Dagger 38, requesting a holo-conference with Lord Revan…"

The Republic crest disappeared, replaced by the form of a uniformed Dagger.

"Stand by, Dagger 38… We're verifying your communication codes, and will direct you to Lord Revan in a few seconds…"

As the man had said, the image of the Republic General appeared in front of the Mandalorian.

"Report…"

"We've scouted this desert planet for the past week and, as you had so wisely advised us, the only possible site for the maps are the tombs surrounding the Valley of the Dark Lords…" The Mandalorian connected his datapad to the computer screens, sending Revan the holographic diagram of the valley. "We demolished the smaller tombs, removing the artifacts we located, which left all but the four main mausoleums for us to inspect, belonging to Tulak Hord, Marka Ragnos, Ajunta Pall and Naga Sadow…"

"And?"

"Tulak Hord's tomb was empty, not a trace of life inside of it, and, unfortunately, no Star Map either… Though we've managed to find a holocron buried with the dead Sith Lord… We're bringing it back to you…"

Revan smiled. The holocron of Tulak Hord was a figure of legend since the time he trained to be a Jedi Guardian. It was said that all Weapon Masters of the Jedi seemed like children playing with toys compared to the Sith's skill.

"The tomb of Marka Ragnos was also empty, and we recovered nothing but a few artifacts inside of it… However, on the tomb of Ajunta Pall… Well sir, the star map wasn't there, but a Sith spirit destroyed over fifty of our battle droids…"

"A Sith spirit?"

"Yes sir… Wearing a white robe and a breathing mask over his mouth and nose…"

"Quite possibly the ghost of Ajunta Pall himself…" The former Jedi rubbed his chin, as if solving a difficult equation "Are you sure the map is not inside his tomb?"

"As sure as one can be, sire…"

"Then leave the ghost be… We have no time to deal with a millennia-old Sith…"

"As you wish, sir…" The Mandalorian pressed a few buttons beneath the screen, and the holo-map focused on the final tomb "As for the tomb of Naga Sadow, we still have not been able to determine if the map is there…"

Revan frowned "Explain yourself…"

"Dagger 07 and I led the first expedition through the tomb's halls… There were two possible paths: One leading to a small lake filled with an acid toxin, and one leading to a gigantic room, home to a creature unlike anything we have ever seen, my lord…"

The former Jedi Knight seemed to lie back on his chair "Describe the beast for me…"

"Well sir, it looked much like a Rancor, but much larger and with fangs and spines… It's whole skeleton structure seems rather different…"

"I see…" Revan joined his hands slightly beneath his face. "The monster you speak of is called a Terentatek… It feeds upon the blood of Force-sensitive creatures… I can think of no fitter lair for it than a Sith planet…"

"We're waiting for your orders, sir… I think we can kill it, but the firepower it would take to harm the beast could very well destroy the map, or, at the very least, seal the tomb…"

"You were right to contact me. I have a few things to do before I can leave Coruscant, but in a few days I'll join you in Korriban… Do not make any more incursions into the tomb, simply secure the perimeter…"

"Yes sir…"

"Is there anything else, 38?"

"No sir, that is all…"

"Good, then I'll see you in a few days…"

The image of Revan Stormrider faded from the Mandalorian's sight.

* * *

Just as the image of 38 dimmed and faded, Lucius Yorimaek, Colonel of the Republic, entered Revan's office. The uniformed man seemed apprehensive to approach his General. The man had his eyes closed and his thumbs rhythmically rubbing his forehead. The former Knight seemed to be in dire need of a rest. Before Lucius had the chance to say anything, Revan spoke up.

"Have you ever felt, my friend, that if you close your eyes the opportunity of a lifetime may just pass you unnoticed?" His short exhales revealed a weakness far greater than the strength portrayed by his deep voice. Revan seemed like a broken man "I have always believed it so, thus I have spent my entire life in full awareness, my eyes constantly open… But now… Now, I wish for nothing more than to spend the rest of my days with my eyes closed…"

"The Republic needs a savior, sir…" Lucius felt awkward to give advice to one of the most admired men in the entire universe "You are that savior, sir…"

"The Republic…" Revan sniggered, opening his eyes and looking at the vehicles outside his window "Is the Republic really worth saving? Was Dxun worth the hundreds of thousands of lives lost in its taking?" He sighed "By the Force, Lucius… Aren't the costs of this war far exceeding the objectives we mean to accomplish?"

"Sir, I… I-ah…" Lucius stumbled through his words "I don't know, sir…"

Revan looked at his subordinate with what it seemed like pity, but might have very well been jealousy.

"Forget it, Lucius…" He waved off the matter, letting his forehead rest on his left hand "What brings you here?"

"You invited the members of the Supreme Military Council to share a drink with you…" The Colonel's tone of voice was back to its normal formality "They are outside…"

"Already?" Revan checked his watch "Almost half past seven… Open the drink cabinet and let them in…"

Lucius walked to a large glass display, containing hundreds of different bottles, filled with drinks from every corner of the Republic space. He removed four identical crystal glasses; one for each representative of the Supreme Council and one for the General. He filled Revan's glass with Corellian Ale, the man's favorite drink, and began to walk back to the General's desk. Revan nodded in gratitude, picking up the glass and walking to a reclining chair in an edge of his office. There, a small conference area had been improvised, with four chairs surrounding a plain round obsidian end table. The seats had been organized so that Revan sat apart from the other guests, in a place where he could be the center of the attentions and, at the same time, inconspicuous enough so that he did not seem under interrogation. The General noticed his subordinate leaving.

"Lucius…" The Colonel turned around "Are they nervous?"

Lucius Yorimaek smiled. "All but one… Lord Yusanis seems as relaxed as if he was taking a morning stroll…"

"It figures…" Revan got up and made sure his uniform was as impeccable as it was when he got dressed that morning. He removed a lonely strand of hair on his shoulder and centered the buckle of his belt. "I'm ready, let them in…"

Three men, in their late forties, early fifties, entered the room. The Supreme Council was assembled so that each military branch would be represented and, in joint efforts, run the defense affairs of the Republic. Lord Yusanis hugged Revan, an act somewhat informal but rather expected. After shaking the hands of the other two men, Revan sat down, indicating to his guests they should do the same. Yusanis of the Echani represented the Senate Guard, a private military branch subject only to the chancellor himself and responsible for the law enforcement on Coruscant; General Appeus represented the Republic Army, responsible for the unity and defense of the Republic; and, finally, Admiral Richért, of the Republic Navy, responsible for the safekeeping of the commercial and transportation routes over the known space. Revan silently watched as Lucius served each man their drink of preference. When each had a glass in hand, the former Knight began:

"Gentlemen… I welcome you to my humble office…" He raised his glass "I sincerely hope that the drinks you know savor are of your liking, and that our evening shall be pleasant…"

They raised their glasses in response, and the evening went on with friendly chats about unimportant matters. Finally, it was the Echani Weapons Master that reached the point Revan was most eager to discuss.

"So…" The war veteran started "How are you going to utilize the resources the Defense Act made available to you?"

The Defense Act was created the day after Revan's speech before the Senate. It approved emergency measures made to ensure the safety of the Republic would not be threatened by the Mandalorian War, or, if to best understand, that the Core Worlds would remain unscathed. The cost for them to remain so did not matter. Amongst other measures, Revan was authorized to draft six million troopers into the military. The law did not, however, specify which branch they would be allocated to. The former Knight smiled.

"I have not put my mind to it yet, sir… For the moment, I simply allocated some financial aid to the Academy of Carida… They are supplying us with some superb officers…" He stared deeply into the Echani's eyes "If you have something in mid, my lord, please feel free to share it…"

"The Senate Guard has been all but abandoned for the past century or so…" He shook his glass of ale and for a moment, the only sound heard was that of the ice hitting the crystal surface "The Chancellor _requests_ that some resources are allocated to that specific branch…"

"_Resources?_"

"Half a million men, plus a billion credits to invest on new technologies…"

"Half a million men?" Revan smirked, ironically "The Chancellor requests not a guard, but a personal army… I'm afraid that's a request I must decline…"

"I am afraid I must insist…" It was Yusanis' turn to smirk "Zaborsk would hate to use his own influence to hinder any plans you might have…"

Revan's smile never vanished from his face, but a sense of disappointment took over his mind. He had believed this Echani was different than the average politician, but now he proved perhaps even a bigger threat than the Chancellor himself.

"My plans will go on as usual; you will have a hundred thousand men and an aid of a hundred million credits… _Nothing more than that_."

"The Chancellor will be _very disappointed_…"

"Let him…" Revan's stare had become cold, and for the first time in his life the Echani man felt a chill up his spine "The election for Chancellor is next year isn't it? Well, I hear that unless the War ends before then, there's virtually no chance Zaborsk will remain in office… I have no plans to give him a personal army to guard his influence, and if he wants to turn the Senate against him, then fine… I've got a personal assurance from Senator Valorum that no such thing will take place…"

Revan could see the expression on the Echani man shift ever so slightly. The former Knight smiled cynically, taking pleasure at the thought that the politician had been outsmarted at his own preferred ground. Yusanis rose from his chair "If your position is final, I'm afraid my presence at this meeting is no longer necessary… I will inform Chancellor Zaborsk of our talk, and I am sure he will deal with the matter as he sees fit… General Revan…"

"Lord Yusanis… Best regards to the Chancellor…" Revan's tone of voice carried a heavy dose of irony. Yusanis left the room as formally as possible, but the anger dwelling beneath the Echani's façade was evident. After hearing the hiss on the durasteel door, the young man turned to face his other guests "Gentlemen, may we now deal with issues actually concerning the war?"

* * *

Revan wiped out the sweat from his forehead, noticing the careful trimming of his initials on the linen cloth of the tissue. Despite the incident with Yusanis, the meeting had gone accord the Knight's plans. Surely, Appeus and Richért had quite a few suggestions as to where the credit and manpower of the Defense Act should be allocated. Unfortunately for them, so did Revan.

Having the meeting notes before him, the knight smirked at the implications involved. First and foremost, the veteran units from the Battle of Dxun and early Outer Rim campaigns were to be split up, distributed amongst the newly created units (from the fifteenth to the thirty seventh army), with the exception of a small group, of nearly thirty thousand men, which would be under the direct leadership of the young General. This meant that not only would the experience gathered from years on battlefields would be passed on quicker to these new troops, but also that Revan now controlled the single most terrifying group of soldiers on the Republic Military. They would train side-by-side with the Mandalorian Daggers to form a new company, the fist company, _Alpha Company._

The second point of the meeting, one fought against by both Generals, was the restructuring of the entire Republic Military hierarchy and command assignments. More soldiers would be promoted to officers, and bloodline based indication would be expressly forbidden on the Institutions' internal statutes. Revan was dividing the base of power, more Lieutenants, less Generals, financial assists to several officer Academies across the known universe.

The third point, unanimity amongst the three men, was the creation of specialized combat units, focused under a single institution: the Republic Marines. For quite some time, the Marines formed the backbone of the Republic Navy. They were the combatants aboard the massive ships, but nothing else. They were rarely deployed at ground combat situations, and their training didn't include any elements of artillery or armored vehicle techniques. As retraining the old marines would far exceed the costs of its usefulness, the current soldiers were to be incorporated by the navy. Close to two million troops from the defense act would be allocated to the 'New Marines' and over two and a half billion credits were made available for the development of new weapons, training programs, fast deploying transports and the building of training facilities all across the Republic borders. The Marines would become an independent force on the military, and more importantly, one almost blindly loyal to him.

Indeed, loyalty played a big part on his plan for the strengthening of the Republic. However, the loyalty he planned to encourage was not one to the Senate, but to the Republic Military. The Generals were quick to agree with that plan, seeing the propaganda as an important tool to get more volunteers to join the war, as they now represented less than ten percent of the troop effectives. The problem with their logic was that in all their years of experience, they failed to see a single determining point in that strategy: To the common people, Revan _was _the Military.

"What the hell are you smiling about?"

"Huh?" Immersed in his thoughts, Revan didn't notice his old friend Malak entering the room "Oh, nothing… Just musing about some things…"

"What's wrong?" Malak sat down on a leather chair, opposite to Revan's "You never use the word 'musing' on your sentences…"

"Please…" Revan sniggered "I 'muse' a lot, unlike some people…"

"Right…" The bald man sighed. Could the man in front of him truly be marked by the dark? He sounded the same, he certainly looked the same, with the exception of the light green emerald eyes now staring at him "I just thought you'd be glad to know Bastila's out of the sterilized room…"

"I'll have Lucius transfer her to my room… She'll be monitored by a nurse, there…"

Malak was only silent for a few seconds "What's up with your stare?"

"My stare…"

"You're talking to me, you're looking at me, but your eyes tell me your mind is somewhere else…"

"Well, you always called me brainless…"

"I'm serious this time, Revan…" Malak allowed his head to lean back against the soft leather surface and closed his eyes "What's on your mind…"

"This is…" Malak opened his eyes and looked at the case in Revan's hands. The velvet covered lid was open, and the bald man looked at the small silver ring trapped by lairs of wine colored fabric with a shocked expression "What do you think about it?"

"Revan…" Malak, slightly stunned, blinked compulsively at the jewel "I don't know what to say… I appreciate the thought, but…"

"Shut up…" Revan closed the velvet lid, laying the case on his lap "And you talk about being serious…"

"I know, I know, I'm sorry… C'mon, let me see the ring…" Revan hesitated but handed his friend the small case. Malak stared at the silver ring, noticing its design. Two oval sapphires adorned the side of a large Arkanian diamond. The ring itself was plain, but for a few engravings, a hand holding each sapphire against the diamond, and rune-like inscriptions almost imperceptible to a human eye. It wasn't a language Malak could comprehend "What language is this?"

"_Xaczik…_ It's a Wookiee dialect…You know bonds made by Wookiees last forever, don't you?"

"I guess… What does it say?"

"I don't speak Xaczik that well… It's only spoken on some islands on Kashyyyk…"

"You don't even know what it's written here and you're giving it to Bastila?"

"I only know a few words… I know the first word is 'my' and the last one is 'yours'… I think that means it's supposed to be a commitment ring…"

"Yes… 'My' ass smells exactly like 'yours'… Real romantic…"

"Do you have anything actually constructive to add?"

"Nah…" Malak checked his watch, getting up. "Frag me, I'm late… I'm greeting a few new officers to the sixth army…" He looked at his friend, a concern frown taking over his features "So… Is this for real?"

"As real as it gets…" Revan grabbed the small box from his friend's hands, putting it back on a pocket at the front of his overcoat "I'll be off planet for a few days, and as soon as I get back I think I'm gonna pop the question…"

"Hey, best of luck to both of you…" Malak placed a supporting hand on his friend's shoulder.

"You sound surprisingly unimpressed…"

"Why should I be impressed?" The bald man started heading towards the door "You two already live like a married couple; all you're doing is putting it on paper and giving her an expensive piece of jewelry…."

"I guess you're right…" He said, but his friend was already out the door. For a few minutes, the former Knight just sat there, at his chosen leather chair, wondering about the true significance of that piece of jewelry. Malak had made a fine point: Would his relationship to Bastila be any different without an official announcement of their union?

_No, I guess__ it wouldn't…_ was the answer found within his own mind _But I'm willing to do it all the same. It feels right… I can sense the Force directing me towards it…_

_And I can see the Force directing me elsewhere, as well…_ His senses became alert, and the image of the decrepit True Sith rushed into his mind, shattering the image of his loved one. It was a clear sign: There was more at stake than his personal doubts. The fate of billions lied within his hands and there he was, thinking about _love_. He pushed those thoughts aside and walked towards his desk. He gently pushed a marble statue of an ancient General, whose name Revan could no longer recall, a few inches to the left, revealing a small red button. A slight pressure from his thumb activated a fingerprint and DNA analysis program. After a few seconds, the button started blinking. The Knight heard the door to his office opening.

"Took you long enough…"

"**Reply:** Faster than any meatbag would walk, Master…"

"But I hold you in higher esteem than any meatbag, HK…" Revan looked at the rust-colored droid. It never ceased to amaze him how a demonic, socially inept, serial killer robot was as close to a childhood friend Revan could have. He had started building HK at the age of eight, originally meant to be a translator robot to help him with the foreign language classes at the Dantooine Enclave. Both he and HK were 'born' in innocence, but now were little more than killing machines "Anyway, did you find anything?"

"**Report:** It took quite some time, Master, but I managed to locate the so-called Starmap you were looking for. **Praising Statement:** You were wise indeed, Master, in believing the device would be on the forest floor, as you foresaw on your hallucination…"

"It's called a vision, HK, and the woods reminded me of Kashyyyk…" For a while, Revan just sat there, staring at his evil-looking droid "Why did I build a droid that's such a son of a bitch, in the first place?"

"**Statement:** I am afraid I am no one's _son_, Master… A droid has only its designer and its master as means of relationship. **Addition: **You, Master, is the closest meatbag this droid can be considered a _son of…_"

(Revan) "…"

(HK) "…"

"HK, it's probably idiocy to even ask this of you, but you must _never ever_ call me daddy, understood? Or pops, or the likes…"

"**Obvious Reply: **Your affirmation is correct, Master…"

Revan smirked, noticing the only affirmation he had made was about his own idiocy "Anyway, what did you find out…"

"**Ashamed Statement: **Unfortunately, Master, the Starmap possessed an identification mechanism, that prevented this unit from even turning the device on… **Observation:** I believe that such restrictions do not apply to meatba- correction – human beings such as yourself, Master…"

"Makes sense…" Revan rubbed his chin "Wouldn't want to reveal the secrets of a super weapon to a scavenger droid, now would we?"

"**Confused Answer: **We would if you so desired, Master…"

"I didn't mean it that way… Frag it, it doesn't matter right now: HK, do you remember lord Yusanis?"

"**Reply: **The Echani meatbag. Followed you at Japrael, Master…"

"Well, our allies are not always what they seem. I'd like you to follow him around… Dig up some dirt."

"**Query:** What would I look for?"

"Anything that could be used against him in the future…"

"**Hopeful Query:** Assassination protocol?"

"Only if he acts in a way that can be physically harmful to me or my circle of advisors… That action can be either direct, firing a weapon, or indirect, ordering an ambush, removing my backup forces… Is that understood?"

"**Reply:** Perfectly, sir… **Question: **When do I start?"

"Now… He probably left to speak with the chancellor and I'd like some info on that conversation… If not… Let's just say he left my chambers in a state of distress, and whoever it is that is more important to him than Zaborsk is a potential weakness to be exploited."

"**Comment: **My behavior core glows at your logic, Master…"

"And I like your hair…" There was no facial expression in HK's head module, but Revan could tell his frustration and confusion all the same "Just go, will you… Daily reports."

HK's gears got covered in a mineral oil as the mission protocol reached the droid's core. The oil was stored on several microscopic deposits, placed on strategic locations around the robot's structure. No noise left HK's legs as the droid paced out of the Republic General's office, the usual shriek nowhere to be found. Not even Malak realized HK's alleged imperfection was in reality a façade. After all, who'd expect such a noisy droid to sneak into their chambers?

Revan smiled. He had built his droid well.

* * *

Clouds of sand flew away directly into the helmed faces of Daggers 38 and 07. Revan's transportation, a modified Lotus-class bomber, slowly descended upon the barren wasteland that was Korriban. The airlock of his cockpit hissed away the cool recycled air, and the cruel midday sun warmed the robed figure of the former Jedi Knight. His boots sunk into the uneven sand floor and the wind gushed through him into the far away horizon. The Republic General wrapped himself around his black robe, as the two Mandalorians approached him:

"Welcome to Korriban, sir…" 38 said, almost ironically "Hope you had pleasant trip, 'cause I'm sure you aren't going to have a pleasant stay…"

The younger man smiled. "I noticed it, 38… Now…" He turned around, glancing at the scenery; the tombs of the four great Sith Lords – Marka Ragnos, Naga Sadow, Ajunta Pall and Tulak Hord – towered over them, the sandstone structures now little more than decaying ruins. With the Academy working, Revan imagined, the Valley of the Dark Lords must have been quite an impressive sight. The Knight turned back, facing the armored soldiers "… which of these is Naga Sadow's?"

"Sir, perhaps you'd like to rest a bit… It must've been one hell of a trip from Coruscant…"

"It was… But my time is short, and odds are we have a long road ahead of us… We can't delay ourselves for the sake of rest. We can get some sleep on the way to the next planet."

"Uh… the next planet?"

"Right…" Revan smirked "I forgot to tell you… Those maps we're looking for lead to something… What it is, I don't know, but it's important enough to be hidden so well. We're finding out this one and hopefully it'll lead us to the other ones…"

"Hopefully?" Dagger 07 motioned to scratch his hair, but when his gloved fingers touched the metal surface of his helmet his frustration began to grow "Sir, I never doubted you before and I'm not gonna start now, but don't you think our time is best spent elsewhere?"

Revan crossed his arms and lowered his head, his deep breathing a clear indication of his thoughts. Dagger 07 waited for the reprimand that was sure to come, but instead, a smile appeared on the face of the man's superior "You're right…"

The Mandalorian would have sighed in relief, if he wasn't just plain confused "I am?"

"Yes, you are…" The young Knight placed his arms around both men's shoulders, leading them towards the command tent "I need both of you on the formation of the new Marines… There's an assassination unit there, and I think both of you are the perfect teachers for those kids…"

"Kids?"

"Teachers?"

"Yes, both of you… Ah, thank the Force…" Revan sighed when the cool air from the pressurized tent reached his pale face. He led the two Mandalorians to a pair of chairs "Sit down… Anyway, what do you think? I guess most of the recruits will be volunteers, you know: Core World rich kids probably coming straight from their fancy university for a false sense of idealism… Doesn't it warm your heart?"

"Huh, sir… We're fine following you…"

"Yes, yes… We wouldn't want it any other way…"

"Are you sure?" Revan smirked at their complying nods "Great, you're sticking with me for now, but after the next map both of you are on your way to Coruscant… No protests, I need your influence on the new recruits…"

The pair prayed for their gods; to Kad Ha'rangir, a gratitude for their temporary luck, to Arasuum a curse for their fate.

* * *

The last Tuk'ata hound fell to the ground, its head rolling away from the creature's torso. Revan deactivated his crimson saber, noticing the runic writings on the archway before him. "It is here, isn't it?" His words were almost whispers, yet the two men behind him heard them clearly. The dark robed man did not wait for their reply, he entered the wide hall before him, noticing the pile of skulls by the other end of the room… noticing the beast next to it.

Revan had never been in front of the beast called Terentatek. The Archives at Dantooine had some very good pictures, yet none did the foul creature any justice. Bigger than any Rancor, the Terentatek's brown hide was thicker than a speeder's plating, his teeth were wider than the young man's fists, and longer than his forearm. Revan's face contorted in disgust as some greenish drool slid through the length of the creature's fangs, before falling to the sand at its feet.

The massive beast was, for the moment, unaware of the man's presence. Revan attached his saber hilt to his belt, holding out his hands near his face. His face was grim, serious, his eyes became hollow shells. Sweat drops fell from the sides of his face into the black cloth at his shoulders, and the ground beneath him seemed to shake. A yellow tint covered his eyes.

The creature's head shot upwards, feeling drawn into the dark presence that suddenly surrounded the room. It felt disoriented, confused. Like being thrown into a sea of darkness, the beast found no direction, no focus point to guide itself.

Revan almost felt sorry for the beast. _Almost…_

The Terentatek's head dashed sideways, as the darkness surrounding it focused on a single point. The creature howled, flexing its knees to jump away. Yet not fast enough.

Before even being taught to wield a lightsaber, a Jedi learns of the Terentatek. 'Never use the Force against it', they said. 'Useless' they called it. Revan devilishly smirked.

The sandstone column hit the creature's abdomen – if one can call it such – with the strength of a thousand Rancors. Immune as it was to Force-based attacks, the Terentatek found out that a Force-guided ten meters long column could cause a lot more damage than the Jedi 'trickery'.

The sound of Revan's footsteps resounded across the room as he approached the fallen beast. Wearily, almost fearfully, Daggers 38 and 07 followed. The creature's chest rose as the air painfully penetrated its longs, his disfigured mouth moved as incoherent sounds made the beast a menacing figure, even when passed out.

"It still lives, sir… We should kill it…"

"No…" was Revan's firm reply "This wretched creature was drawn to the darkness of this place… It probably guards the device I seek. It shall live, and serve as a guardian against anyone that tries to uncover the mysteries of this tomb…"

Revan's gaze shifted. It fell upon an ancient doorway, near a large pile of skulls. The former Knight nodded towards the now unguarded pathway "Secure that room, bring me what you can find…"

The two assassins grasped the hilts of their rifles, moving to the sides of the doorway. After a quick glance inside, scanning the room for heat and electromagnetic signatures, the pair entered the area. After about a minute, Revan saw Dagger 38 stand by the door.

"All clear sir, but no sign of a star map… We found two grenades, if that helps…"

Revan shrugged and left the large stone chamber. Standing by the hallway, the former Knight sighed and observed the only other possible way deeper into the tomb: A hallway, partially blocked by a wall of fallen boulders. The young man sighed, holding out an open palm in the direction of the barrier.

"Sir…" The two Daggers approached him, but were silenced as a lonely boulder shifted slightly. A lonely rock fell by their feet and several pebbles danced atop the room's surface. The rock wall fell backwards, and a number of boulders dashed unto the darkness of the now revealed corridor. "Uh, will you need the grenades?"

"No…" Revan's fingers glistened, and several webs of lightning completely enveloped the young man's hand "Let's move on…"

Only the light coming from Revan's hand guided them further into the tomb. After several minutes walking they came across a small cave, an open area interrupting the pathway, flooded until ground level in a strange green fluid.

"Crap, one of the grenades was a 'freezer'… I'll go back and-"

"That won't be necessary…" The former Knight took a few steps forward, stopping about a yard away from the green liquid. As Revan held out his hand, the two Daggers were left to stand in awe as the poisonous obstacle began to shift away from its center. It didn't take long for a small corridor to be formed. "Come, I won't be able to keep it steady for long…"

The trio slowly began to make their way through the improvised hallway. 07 stopped about half-way through, fumbling through the contents of one of the pouches on his belt. The Mandalorian withdrew a small flashlight from it and held the weak light against the liquid wall. "My, oh my…" He laughed out loud "Maybe this isn't as poisonous as we thought…"

Revan turned around, watching the illuminated spot within the green wall. Several dark forms twisted within the fluid. "I wouldn't be so sure of that…" The General grabbed the tool from his subordinate, trying to maintain his concentration while fighting off the strong citric scent filling his nostrils. He carefully plunged it into the green surface, withdrawing it a few seconds afterwards. The two assassins shuddered, as the lantern became nothing but a melted plastic cylinder. "Some creatures' homes are as welcoming as the pits of hell to a race like us…"

The three men were silent for the rest of the short walk. Just as they made their way out of the Force-built path, the liquid broke free of its restrains, and both halves were united in a clashing wave that splattered the acid fluid all across the room. Revan and the Daggers ran across the short dirt patch and through an archway, to shield themselves from the poisonous rain.

"Will we have to do this when we get back?"

Revan turned to face 38. He had a smile on his face "Most likely…"

38 cursed under his breath "I should have gone back to get the _freezer_…"

* * *

Revan's chest felt heavy. The large flower-like device before him hummed with untamed energy, even powered off as it was. _No wonder the Terentatek was attracted to this place_, the young man thought, _more than a strong Force signature, the Star Map emanates a dark presence so ancient, so deeply enrooted within Korriban it seems to be the axis the whole planet spins around…_

The young man stepped forward, carefully scanning the room for any possible traps. As Revan came closer to the device, atop a thin metal support cylinder, a small crystal screen lit up, and the green glow illuminated the ancient chamber. Cautiously approaching it, he saw a small, rectangular metal surface, right next to the crystal screen, not three inches long and not two inches wide, hum with the energy of the Star Map. The former Knight barely hesitated, before laying his index finger atop the dark surface.

Revan frowned, believing the device to be a fingerprint scan, however primitive that might be, until he felt a sting upon his skin. The former Knight quickly withdrew his hand, noticing the crimson color of his blood flowing freely from a small cut at the base of his finger. He smirked, _Not so primitive…_ he thought, as the Force sealed his wound.

The Star Map biped and hummed as the immense amount of information contained in a droplet of blood was analyzed. "I suppose it's a midi-chlorian scanner… Perhaps the reason HK couldn't activate it…"

The humming ceased and a large holographic image of a humanoid creature, with several amphibian characteristics, appeared from the center of the map. Revan frowned as the figure spoke in a language unlike anything he had ever heard.

"I'm sorry… I'm afraid I don't understand what you're saying…"

A large black symbol, of something similar to a cricket appeared before the Knight, while incomprehensible letters shone beneath it. "_Language assimilated…Human Basic…"_ A deep and cultured voice echoed throughout the room "_All bow before the might of the Builders…All shudder before the Undying Sun of the Forge… Speak, Human, of your merits and affiliations…"_

"I am Revan Stormrider, scourge of the Mandalorians, Commander of a thousand Armies, Follower of neither Jedi nor Sith, and I bow before no one…"

"_All living creatures bow before the Builders. A weakling human is no exception…"_

"I am no wea-"

"_Enough! By which right do you come before the Star Map seeking the secrets of the Forge?"_

"The right of every man to attain ultimate power…"

A green square appeared on the crystal screen. "_Midi-chlorian count finished… Average rating: 32.000… You are powerful, human… Yet many stronger than you have come before the Infinite Empire, and all have fallen… What makes you different?"_

"I have seen the light, I have seen the dark, and turned away from both… I seek power not to control it, but to use it… Is my cause just? I fight against darkness greater than anything the modern world has ever seen, yet I am a single man… You ask me what makes me different from those before: they all sought power to aid them, to ease their tasks… That same power, however, will only make the burden on my shoulders all the heavier…"

"_How would attaining power become a greater burden?"_

"By using such, I am committing my life to a suicidal cause: fighting off the black hole that will consume us all… I am willing to make such ultimate sacrifice, my life, the life of my men and the war I now fight on, are all expendable, compared to the ultimate goal: the preservation of our universe…"

The Star Map seemed to ponder Revan's agreements, before a hidden engine, meters beneath the ground, activated the device _"We shall give you a chance, human… But know this: Your ultimate challenge awaits you at the Forge, only then will you know if you are worthy of obtaining the ultimate power, the power of the Builders, the power of the INFINITE EMPIRE!"_

And with that, the image faded, and the large threefold Star Map opened before the young man, leaving him with the image of the universe he sought to protect.

* * *

Dagger 38 knelt on the muddy ground, his index finger remaining in cautious stillness above his rifle's trigger. Surrounded by a stealth field, the Mandalorian assassin carefully watched the human den before him. The cloaked figure before him seemed weak, and the slowness of his movements indicated the man had seen far too many seasons to pose any kind of threat to a highly trained soldier.

The Mandalorian tapped a small button near the barrel of his EE-3 carbine rifle, and two semi-circular handles propped up on the metal shaft. Dagger 38 removed a black scope from within a leather pouch, hanging from his belt, and placed it atop the firearm. After some quick adjustments, the assassin zoomed in on the stranger, suppressing a gasp, as he could find nothing but a tree trunk.

"What?" He asked out loud "Where the…"

"Where the hell am I?" The assassin jumped away, surprised to find the cloaked figure standing right behind him "Son, you still need over a decade of hunting before you're able to sneak on me…"

Dagger 38 fired his rifle, but the old man easily dodged the laser projectile. The Mandalorian kneeled behind a tree trunk, cursing himself for his own negligence. He set his rifle to 'burst', and took aim. The old man simply walked to where he was standing. Powering off his stealth field – as it seemed to be useless – the assassin unleashed the full power of his weapon, a massive volley of flame darting towards the robed figure.

38 could not suppress a sigh, as he saw his attack bounce away from its target, reflected by a blade of pure light. The battle was lost, he knew it. He had virtually no chance against a Jedi foe, yet the Mandalorian carried on, dropping his rifle and unsheathing his ceremonial dagger. His free hand carefully reached for one of the several leather pouches attached to his belt, grabbing a thermal detonator from it. He kept the explosive behind his back, and the old man halted his advance.

The Mandalorian pressed the grenade within his hand, and several red lights appeared on its center. Carefully timing his throw, the assassin hurled the grenade at the old Jedi, just as its timer ran out. As the thermal detonator flew to his target, the robed man raised his hand unto the skies, and all 38 could do was curse, as he saw the explosive device follow the man's hand and explode fifty yards above them, spreading fire upon the nearby trees.

The distraction was all he needed, though, and as the Jedi glanced back towards his foe he was surprised to find him not two meters away, his dagger fast approaching the old man's throat. The metal blade passed inches from its target, and the robed man shifted sideways, as 38's knee hit him on his stomach.

The old man rolled back from the impact, falling to the ground and landing a few feet away, flat on his back. 38 took the opportunity and lunged forward, landing on top of the fallen man, only to find a green light penetrating his abdomen.

"Lesson number one…" The old man said, pushing his foe away "Never give your all in one-on-ones… Your opponent will know all of your limitations…"

The old Jedi powered off his lightsaber, letting the defeated man lie flat on his back. He carefully removed 38's helmet, placing it by the assassin's side. The Jedi lowered his hood, and for the first time the Dagger had a glimpse of the old man's face. He gazed at his dark skin and grayish mustache, before shutting his eyes, and sensing a deep darkness surround him…

…Until a bluish storm covered his vision.

His eyes widened, and once again he was greeted by the vision of the old man's face. 38 contorted his body as he felt the man's hand above his wound. "What? You really thought I'd let you die without asking you a couple of questions?"

"Now…" The old man continued "Just _what_ is a Mandalorian assassin like you doing in a place like Kashyyyk?"

* * *

Revan's fighter slowly descended upon one of the landing pads of the Enclave. The large building had not changed, he thought, over the five years he had been away. He had transferred to the Coruscant temple at sixteen years of age, to finish his training as Jedi Guardian with Master Kavar. Now, twenty one years old, he returned, but not in the way he had imagined.

He could still remember his dreams, the thoughts of him returning to Dantooine acclaimed as a hero, a champion of Justice, a _Jedi Knight!_ Yet now, what was he? An outcast, a heretic, an exile… No longer considered a member of the Jedi Order, he had, at first, felt as if his whole life had been thrown into oblivion. He remembered how ruined he felt, as 'right' and 'wrong' faded from his sight, the cruel gray reality of the universe overwhelming his young mind.

Still, Kreia had prepared him for it. The old Master had taught him, from a very young age, to rely only on his own skill. People were weak and expandable, and ideals such as the Jedi or Sith principles, were even fickler. So when the time came, Revan heeded the call of war. The rest, as it is said, is history.

Revan's boots clamped against the grown, his brown overcoat flowing wildly behind him, the sturdy leather soundly following the wind. The former Knight hung his WESTAR-M2 rifle on his back, while securing his Arrayed KYD-3 pistol within its holster. The young man walked away from his fighter, entering one of the several hallways within the Jedi Enclave. It didn't take long before the Knight found himself before a very familiar place, a place of fond memories.

He smiled as he approached the center of the room, the trees and the sound of water calming his very soul. He remembered when he was only a youngling, one of Vandar's pupils, playing with a few of his friends by the crystalline water fountain. Malak, Fergus, Atria, Jonah, Sylva… They were nothing but children, no responsibilities in the world. Life was a great adventure, one discovery after the other, and it was all truly fascinating. Revan was absorbed by his own memories, until a careful hand on his shoulders brought him back to real life.

Revan looked behind his shoulder and smiled, he knew he'd be assaulted by memories when he arrived at the Enclave, now one of those moved to stand by his side.

"Out of all the people I'd expect to find relaxing upon this fountain, you, my son, are one of the furthest from my expectations…"

The young man smiled, inhaling the planet's fresh air "I wish my motives were simply relaxation, Master Dorak…"

"Your motives?"

"Crystals…" Revan lied, and he knew Dorak could pick it up if he wanted to. "We lost a few sabers on Dxun…"

The old Master sighed "So it is war that brings you here…"

"Crystals bring me here, Master… The war keeps me away…"

"It did not have to be this way, young one…"

"You're the second person to tell me that in less than a week…"

"Perhaps, then, you should heed people's advice… Your move was not a wise one…"

"Perhaps not, but it needed to be done…" Revan closed his eyes and smirked on the irony of his following statement "For the second time, I answer the same thing: It had to be this way, my life directed me towards it…"

"Your life?"

"My life…" Revan replied, noticing the old Master's unconvinced stare "I am a Guardian, Master… A protector, a keeper of the people… I wield my blade against the people's enemies, as the Jedi taught me… I could never act any other way…"

"_Never_ is a strong word, young one…"

"I vow before you, Master…" Revan's stare was serious, and Dorak could see a flicker of darkness, behind the young man's green eyes. _Green!_ - He thought immediately. "The safety of the Republic is my only motive, no matter the means applied…"

"What do you mean, child?"

Revan sighed, but smiled weakly at his former teacher "Nothing, Master… The stress got to me, that's all…"

"You work too hard…"

Revan frowned at the quick dismissal of the subject. He half expected Dorak to throw him against the Enclave's wall and beat the truth out of him. Uneasily, the Knight responded: "Sweat saves blood…"

"Blood saves lives…"

"And brains save both…"

Dorak smiled "You learned well…"

"I had a great teacher…" Revan laid his hand on the old Master's shoulder "I have to go, Master… It was a huge pleasure to talk to you, again… Unfortunately the war does not wait for me."

Dorak watched as his former apprentice walked away from him. The old master exhaled heavily, looking at the overhead tower that held the council chambers. "The Council must hear of this… Something troubles Revan. And if that light-hearted fool is worried about something, the Council must prepare for its threat…"

Master Dorak walked towards the tower before him "… and may the Force help us, we need to deal with the consequences of Revan's response…"

* * *

Revan walked away from the ancient burial mound, kneeling on the ground and opening his leather backpack. He placed some sort of electronic device inside it and stood up, holding the pack over his shoulder as he walked away. The Knight had barely taken three steps forward, before a lone, white robed figure stepped out from behind a tree. Revan simply watched as the person moved to stand in front of him, her head blocking almost entirely the view of the Sun.

"I'm guessing word of my presence spread out through the Enclave…"

"You guessed right…" A deep female voice responded "As did words of your betrayal three years past…"

Revan smirked "Right, betrayal… Call it whatever you want, Atris…"

The silver-haired woman approached him. Her white Jedi Historian robes seemed to glow with the sunlight and her pale white skin seemed as smooth as the last time Revan had seen it, five years before. The two had been close during their training. Word on the Enclave was that the two were perhaps more than friends, but Revan always dismissed the rumors. He had always seen Atris as a younger sister, and though he admitted the young woman's beauty was stunning, Revan cared far too much about their friendship to ever attempt to form a closer bond.

Not that she would welcome it. The Knight almost laughed at the prospect. Atris had, from a very young age, been a radical follower of the Jedi way. She believed the Jedi traditions, represented by the Jedi Code, were the clearest path to enlightenment the Galaxy could ever find. _There is no passion…_ And with Atris, the so-called (at the time) teenage ice queen, there could, truly, be no passion.

And then, came the war, and every tradition, all that was pacified, was shattered. Atris, apparently, had not yet gotten over it.

"You challenged the Code, split the Order in half and yet you still refuse to call it a betrayal…"

"I didn't point a gun to anyone's head, Atris…" Revan closed the distance between them, and the difference in their statures became evident: The young woman barely reach the Knight's shoulders "If half the order followed me, an exaggeration, by the way, it is because they felt it was the right thing to do…"

He began to walk away, and Atris had to quicken her pace to keep up with him "You cannot 'disagree' with the code… You either follow it, or not… Jedi or _Sith!"_

Revan sniggered "Talk about only the Sith dealing in absolutes…"

"Well, did you not just leave a burial ground?" As she asked this, Revan halted, turning to face her light blue eyes with his emerald gaze "One that felt particularly tainted by the Dark Side of the Force…"

Revan's expression became one of concern. If she found out about the Star Maps and the so-called 'Forge', the Council would not take long to uncover the Knight's plan. The consequences of such, he feared, were too serious to even imagine.

"I'm looking for saber crystals…" He lied "And I'm guessing you're not supposed to be following me…"

"Revan, we've known each other our whole lives… Do not, for a moment, believe you can lie to me and get away with it…"

"What?" He joked "You're gonna strike me down with 'history'? Stick to the archives, old friend, it's what you're good at…"

Revan began to walk away, but turned around upon hearing a very familiar sound. He could only stare, dumbfounded, as Atris, childhood friend of his and bastion of peace and justice amongst the Jedi, drawing a blue lightsaber in challenge.

"Blue, even though you're a Consular?" His tone of voice was that of slight surprise, but far from concern "It's a nice choice…" His curved saber flew to his hand, and a crimson blade hummed itself to full power "Matches your beautiful eyes…"

As Revan uttered those last words, the silver haired woman flinched, and jumped at him with an almost clumsy war cry. He evaded her first blows with ease, but it didn't take long for her passionate lunges to penetrate Revan's defenses. The Knight's face was one of pure concentration as his fight style was quite simply being overrun. He was still a far superior duelist than the young woman, but to effectively succeed on a saber duel, Revan's style called for him to use his enemy's flaws to its demise. He could see several gaps on his friend's defense; the problem was that not once he intended to take advantage of that.

Atris jumped back "Stop playing with me…"

"I'm not…" Revan raised his hand, and Atris felt like she couldn't move. As she fought to remain conscious, she noticed the fallen Jedi approaching her, while caressing her forehead with his gloved hand "Play times are over…"

Atris felt the urge to scream, but her vocal chords were paralyzed. She could feel her mind being torn apart by Revan's search, and she did all she could to drive him out. To her misfortune, her will alone was not enough to fight the man's sheer mental strength. Atris finally collapsed to exhaustion, but not before realizing, with much grief, her former friend's target. The historian felt useless, as her most important memories and recollections, including that of the ancient tomb, were molded as the young Knight saw fit.

* * *

Erich Fett stared out the permaglass window of his temporary headquarters, one of the largest sky fortresses of the occupied planet of Althir. The gas clouds shifted and glowed with the wind, a sea of poisonous vapor that just happened to be the main source of income of the Outer Rim world. A number of rocky planetary rings split the skies in several places. Light green, pink, and yellow at times… Several different color shades that made the Althiri horizon one of the most beautiful ones the young Mandalorian had ever seen.

Yet it was not its beauty that brought him to the planet.

Fett heard metal steps outside his chambers, a sound also noticed by his guards. They moved for their weapons, but were held still by their leader's raised arm. He had summoned the Mandalorian commanders, yet he was not expecting them to arrive for another hour. Never turning away from the durasteel blast doors, the new Mandalore moved to sit upon his dark leather throne. He tapped the chair's arm, and a crystal display appeared from its right flank. Pressing a few buttons, the young man sighed in relief as the video feed from the surveillance appeared at a holoscreen at the wall: a number of golden armored Mandalorians awaited by his door.

Erich cursed at his own idiocy. He and Revan were in a truce, and however unofficial it may be, not for a moment did the Mandalorian doubt the Republic commander's words. Not that he personally liked the young Jedi, he did not, but Revan, in many ways, showed traces of the Mandalorian honor – the honor of combat, of battle. Diplomacy was not his strong point, but like any experienced commander, Erich could tell when a favorable opportunity knocked on his door, much like a small group of golden armored men were doing at that very moment.

Fett smirked beneath his helm, and ordered his assistant to bring the commanders before him. He rose from his chair, his black cape flowing behind him, and took a few steps forward, just as the three commanders approached him. "Ordo…" Their armors were absolutely identical, apart from large, roughly painted, clan symbols taking over a large portion of their chestplates "… Fett, Bralor… Let us sit…"

The silver armored man led the commanders into a private meeting room. Only a dim blue light escaped several well placed wall lamps, made from Dantooine crystals, the simplest form of lighting in the galaxy. A large oval table and plain durasteel chairs were the only furniture in the room. No drinks were served as the men sat down, to show their faces would be a sign of weakness, of – Mandalore forbids – _humanity_.

"Commanders, forgive me if I skip the formalities, but there are more pressing matters than our traditions…" Erich leaned back on his chair "I gave you orders to assess the current situation of your Clans…"

"Mandalore…" Canderous Ordo, leader of the Ordo Clan, rose from his chair "As an intelligent precaution from our former leader, Clan Ordo was left behind the Dxun advance, to serve as a buffer between our taken territories and our future conquests… The honor in such is arguable, but just give us an opportunity, my lord, and the Ordo snake will pour its venom upon the Republic…"

"I have no doubt of it Commander…" Erich's voice was smooth, yet firm. It sounded neither as scold or praise, but as an affirmation. Mandalore expected no less from Mandalorians "But I need numbers, Ordo… I cannot unleash you as my first wave if you cannot handle the war attrition…"

"350.000 soldiers…" Ordo sat down "Maybe less…"

"And you?"

"The Fett have 100.000 men… Clans Beviin and Skirata are perhaps half than that…."

"Clan Bralor has little over 30.000 souls…"

"Brothers, that does not suit us…" The Mandalore could not suppress a sigh "For a millennia we relied on our brutality… We relied solely on our ability to destroy a foe faster than he could react to our tactics, we obliterated planets and decimated species… As a result, we do not have the man power or the industrial capacity to quickly recover from our defeat at Dxun…"

"Within a month…" He continued "… we can conscript a million men. By that time Revan might outnumber us three to one…"

"We could enforce what has always worked for us…" Cassus Fett, by far the most experienced Commander in the room, spoke up "Bigger bombs, bigger ships, tougher hulls…"

"It's being taken care of as we speak…" Erich reassured the Fett leader "We won't be outmuscled in a prolonged siege any more, the forges of Mando'a are taking care of it…"

"My lord, if I may…" Jurgen of Clan Bralor was not a very impressive man. Advanced age is normally frowned upon by the Mandalorians, and Jurgen was the perfect example as to why it is such. As Mandalore, the first once said, if you live too long, you haven't tried hard enough. "We are ignoring the quickest solution…"

Cassus Fett snorted "Which is?"

Bralor shifted uncomfortably on his chair "Well, droids…"

"Droids!" Ordo was outraged. Once again the Mandalorian Commander rose from his chair "We can't rely on those! They have the aiming of a five year old, and the impetus of a sloth! They are too cold… The battlefield calls for passionate defenders of Mando'a, not submissive slaves of technology!"

"Sit down, Canderous…" Mandalore tapped his armored fingers against the cold surface of the table, the sound of such action being the only thing heard in the room "We are here to discuss ideas. I see no purpose in shouting…"

Erich Fett stood up, walking around the oval table "I agree a battle requires passion, and most importantly, honor… Despite that, we must look at the bigger picture. It takes close to two decades to properly teach a Mandalorian to fight, while it takes minutes to teach a droid how to shoot…"

"If you can call that shooting…"

"_When Mandalore speaks, others listen…_" Erich's voice was harsh. Canderous Ordo was six years older than him… He was too old to be reminded of Mandalorian tradition "Now, as I was saying: I, as well as any man, do not approve the use of droids as a replacement for real soldiers… However, we need numbers… This war can be summed up by a simple concept: The Mandalorian Race, against all other races…"

"Plus…" Cassus Fett seemed to stare at an invisible object hanging from the opposite wall "Ten thousand droids attacking a bunker have a higher probability to succeed than a thousand well trained men, depending of course on the situation…"

"My lord spoke so much about the first line of offense…" Fett continued "I can't think of something more terrifying than destroying a droid who tried to take over our trench only to find three more where it used to stand…"

"Overwhelming numbers can be quite a psychological advantage…" Bralor's elder voice seemed weak "It makes the opponent feel entrapped…"

"You are all forgetting a simple detail…" All eyes were fixed on Ordo "Where's the honor in sending a droid to do a Mandalorian's work?"

"Where's the honor in sending a Mandalorian to die because we were too afraid to break tradition?" Mandalore sat back down at his chair "If we are meant to lose this war, my friends, we shall… But let me assure you…" He leaned into the table "Every Mandalorian that lies dead shall be accompanied by a dozen Republic soldiers…"

And so Mandalore, made the statement all present dreaded to hear. The warrior kind had slaughtered their way to a worthy foe. The fate of the Mandalorian race stood on the edge of a knife, and Erich Fett, known throughout the ages ahead as Mandalore, the Glorious, had vowed to deny his greatest opponent his victory. If such actions were to be the death sentence for all his kind…

"…So be it."

* * *

Revan wandered through the Shadowlands of Kashyyyk with a serious expression. He had not heard of Dagger 38 for almost a week, since he left Korriban. Every attempt to contact him had been in vain, and after spending nearly an hour amongst the dark corners of the forest, the Knight feared the worse.

Still, the young man had faith in his subordinate. He was a highly skilled assassin, and Revan could think of few adversaries capable of overtaking him. Unfortunately for the Knight, he had no idea one of these few people had just stepped right in front of him.

Revan could only awkwardly frown as an old man, tightly hugging his worn out robe, moved from the shadows to block his path. His goatee, almost entirely grey, was poorly trimmed, and parts of his mustache covered his full lips. "Can I help you?"

The old man snorted "Son, do I look like I need your help?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

"Alright, make fun of the old man…" He shakily walked to a nearby tree trunk and sat down, impatiently staring at the young man before him "You're Regan, right?"

"Regan? No, no… I'm, uh, Revan…" The young man was confused "So… I assume you've heard of me?"

"I heard of a Regan… Did that bloody Mandalorian speak nonsense to me?"

"Bloody Mandalorian?" Revan was alarmed, his hand instinctively reached for his curved lightsaber, a move followed closely by the old man's eyes "Black armor, attitude problem?"

"Yeah, that sounds about right…" He rubbed his bearded chin "So it's Revan, eh? Boy, your parents must have really hated you…"

"Hey!"

"Anyway…" The old man got up, faster than Revan could believe, considering his previous movements "That thing you reached for, it's not a flashlight, and I hope it's not a vibrator… It's a lightsaber, isn't it? Yet you don't look like a Jedi…"

Revan sighed impatiently "I'm not…"

"Good…" He sat back down and fumbled through his robe, removing a traditional lightsaber from within its brown fabric "Neither am I…"

Revan smirked "You don't look like a Sith…"

"_Really_? I thought I had you fooled…" The sarcasm in his voice was evident "So what brings a not-Jedi-not-Sith like you to my humble planet?"

"First things first…" Revan found himself strangely at ease next to this old man "What happened to the Mandalorian you mentioned a while ago?"

"I married him…"

"I'm serious…"

"Don't worry, I've got him tied up in my hut… Bloody kids…" He rubbed his hands together, feeling cold "It's about a mile away from here… Would you mind escorting an old man back to his home? I'm freezing out here…"

"Sure…" Revan smiled; he had learned his lesson. Not for a moment did the Knight believe the old man's portrait of frailty "Care to tell me your name first?"

"You can call me Your Highness…" He noticed the young man's frown "Or Jolee Bindo…"

Revan was shocked at the revelation "Bindo?" He laughed "As in _'Pulling a Bindo'?_"

The old man uttered a few words in a language Revan could not comprehend. By the tone of his voice, they weren't nice words.

"That story is too long to be told away from a fire… Follow me…"

* * *

Dagger 07 wasn't ready for the sight before him. He had spent almost a week on Tatooine, until he was finally able to gather the info from the Star Map, nearly getting devoured by a Krait dragon in the process. Lord Revan had developed an ingenious gadget, a microchip meant to be attached to one of the several panels surrounding the ancient device. It inserted Revan's data from the first map, from Korriban, and gathered the data required. As soon as the coordinates were acquired, the microchip would insert a virus, which destroyed the mainframe's defenses. Immediately afterwards, the map would be reprogrammed; set only to activate once in contact to Revan's Force signature. Now, he saw his commander, the so-called savior of the Republic, alongside Dagger 38 and an old man, arguing about a bowl of soup.

"I'm telling you, it needs a bit of salt…" Revan stared at 38, appreciating the agreeing nod "Those vegetables took away much of the meat's taste…"

"Salt?" His laugh was dry. He seemed tired of having this kind of conversation "Can you care to tell me where the hell would I find salt in the middle of the Shadowlands?"

"There's a commercial outpost up on the treetops…"

"An Czerka outpost…" Bindo cursed "I have no intention of buying a Wookiee slave, which is pretty much the only thing they sell over there…"

"07…" The hidden Dagger was startled. His commanding officer was still looking at the ground "Come over here and have some soup… It's not expert cuisine, but it fills your stomach…"

The Mandalorian wearily approached the sitting trio, and removed his helmet. Dagger 38 filled a small ceramic dish with the man's thick soup, handing it alongside an old bread to the surprised newcomer. "Sir, huh, about the map…"

"Some other time, 07…" His voice was smooth, but his eyes showed his determination. It was an order "Eat first, we'll get some sleep and in the morning we'll discuss our current situation…"

If Bindo was curious about the unspoken matter, he made no move to demonstrate it. The old man finished his meal and entered his house, locking the three Republic soldiers outside. They hurriedly assembled a few survival tents, and for a few hours, all was quiet on Kashyyyk.

* * *

The Star Map's holographic image faded. Revan analyzed the information on his datapad, noticing the coordinates had narrowed down the location of the 'Forge' to a single quadrant, a few clicks away from the Republic border. It was, to all effects, a blank spot on his map.

Revan laid his backpack on the floor. As he fumbled through the bag's contents, the former Jedi failed to notice a pair of hazel eyes watching his every move. The stranger's glance followed the Knight as he got up, holding out a holo communicator. White brows frowned as the image of a uniformed man appeared from the top of the device.

"General…" Lucius' voice was tired "The plan has progressed quite smoothly…"

"So the High Council agreed with our proposal?"

"Not so much the whole Council, but a single member…" The blue holographic face of the Republic officer looked down, presumably at an unseen datapad "One of the Judges, Shelkar, saw the wisdom in establishing a Republic Base within the ocean floor…"

"So you've begun mapping for the _right location_?"

"We're well over that phase, sir…"

Revan looked surprised "You've found it, already?"

The man's blue image nodded "Near Hrakert Rift, sir… We'd noticed a large concentration of predators in that area… It seemed the logical choice…"

"The darkness of the device attracted them… Nice work…"

Lucius felt uncomfortable "Thank you, sir…"

"I guess that's it, then…" Revan sighed in relief "Take a frigate, meet me over Kashyyyk. Signal me when you arrive…"

"Yes, sir…"

Revan threw the communicator into the mess that was his backpack. He placed the leather bag over his shoulder, carelessly turning around only to find the wrinkled face of a former Jedi.

"Sith!" The former Knight yelled "How long have you been watching?!"

"About an hour or two…" Jolee Bindo scratched his bald head "Sneaking away when I so humbly offered you my famous hospitality… Have you got no shame?"

"So I'm guessing you knew about this place…"

"For quite some time, actually… All I ever saw was an ugly face…"

Revan held out a microchip on his open palm "The wonders of technology…"

"There's no technology within the nature of the Dark Side…"

"Dark Side?" His smile was genuine, like that of a naive child "Look, old man: The first time I activated the map, the same ugly face appeared before me… For some reason, the device considered me 'worthy'"

Bindo scoffed "What? You think you're stronger than me? That I wouldn't be able to activate the map because of my limited strength?"

"I didn't say any of that…"

"Good, because let me tell you this…" Bindo's sturdy fingers touched the hard leather fabric over Revan's chest "While your worst adversary is a bunch of over confident tin-men, I faced the Sith Army of Exar Kun… I can tell you're strong, but not nearly strong enough that such machine would exclude me and not you…"

Revan silently pondered the man's observations "Then what…"

"The _taint,_ you dunghead!" Jolee smacked Revan's head "Or have you ever heard of an 'Empire' built upon the Light Side?"

"I told you once before, I'm not Sith… I never fell to the dark…"

Bindo stared at Revan, impatience the most obvious feature on his expression "When you were growing up, did your mother ever get mixed up and used the diaper on your head?"

"Hey! There's no need for that!"

"Oh, help me Ulic, my friend, 'cause I might just kill this one…" Bindo rubbed his forehead "Why do you need it anyway? Planning to conquer everything in your path? Impose unprovoked slaughter upon helpless innocents? Trying to impress a girl?"

"_I'M TRYING to SA-VE the Republic…" _Revan was quickly losing his patience "There's a threat unlike anything we've ever seen… You say you've fought the Sith? How about the True Sith, eh?"

Revan held Jolee's wrist, placing the old man's palm over his head. His own strong hand moved to cover Bindo's baldness.

"Son…" Bindo's voice was tired, almost disappointed "I hope you had _a lot of fun_ with that hand, 'cause you're about to lose it…"

Revan smirked "Am I?"

Jolee felt a small nudge at the back of his mind, and maybe from the huge time isolated from every trace of civilization, his barriers opened up almost without opposition. And there it was, the young man before him, clad in a dark armor, standing in the center of a shrine of some sort. The young man kneels down in pain, and a auburn haired woman behind him seems to faint. Images flow wildly into the old man's memories. Faraway places, beaches he had never seen, oceans he had never dived on, sand dunes he had never crossed before.

Shadows enveloped him. He wasn't really alarmed as he noticed the young man before him didn't seem to be its source, but the presence was so real, the taint so intoxicating. Hollow eyes stared deeply into him, a pale decrepit face appeared inches from his face. The man's rancid breath filling his nostrils, his cold thin hands reaching over Bindo's throat. Pressure began to build up on his airways. He needed to get away, the man's dark aura overwhelmed him. He cursed himself. With one colossal yell, the light within him shone brightly. The man's pale face was replaced with a twisted skull. He exhaled heavily, opening his eyes to the much welcomed familiar sight of the Kashyyyk Shadowlands.

"What the hell do you…" Jolee's yell fell silently when the old man gazed at Revan's sorry state. The younger Knight knelt by the muddy ground, his clothes seemed to have worn out a decade in the space of five minutes. He could see a few white strands of hair falling over his forehead and for the first time the old Master understood it all. "You never got to see that far, did you?"

The young man shook his head. Bindo realized his mind was never invaded. It was Revan's mind he was seeing, his memories. That _nudge_ at the back of his mind wasn't a probe from an invader, it was the pull of a longing brother. Revan drew Jolee deep within his mind. And it was only with the old man's help that the true vision was finally unveiled.

The true Sith were never just old rulers of an ancient empire. They were the origin of all darkness, they were ever present taint on us all. They were the corrupting presence that would enclose everything within endless shadows; they would bring an end to all things… the end of all light… the end of all darkness… the end of all life.

The old Master carried Revan on his shoulders, placing him on a large boulder nearby "So what do you think you can do? Build up an army and 'go fighting darkness'?"

"Did you see the army?"

Bindo shifted uncomfortably, remembering a quick image that appeared within his vision "Briefly… Don't know which race is that, though…"

"They're the old Masters first line of defense…" Revan rubbed the sweat off his forehead "I shouldn't think of the second step until I've figured out how to take the first one…"

Both men remained there for what seemed like ages. Revan was almost asleep, while one would be able to count on a single hand's fingers the number of times Jolee Bindo actually blinked. Revan's mind was in a state of absolute chaos: wild images flew by his senses, his consciousness desperately searching for some kind of focus point, a single memory to hold on to.

It found one, on the slow rise and fall of a sleeping woman's chest.

* * *

**Author's Notes: Well, this chapter was getting way too big. I'm working on the next part as I post this. ****It shouldn't be that long of a time before I post it, as it might be a little shorter. I don't expect your minds to be blown out by this. It's a not-so-brief pause from the action.**

_**Currently playing**__**: 'The Beast Within: A Gabriel Knight Mystery' – I have a review of it on Gamespot. If you are a fan of adventure games and haven't played this, well, kill yourself.**_

_**Currently listening**__** to: 'Framing Armageddon' by Iced Earth. Just perfect.**_

_**Books I've read lately:**_

_**-Galilee, by Clive Barker;**_

_**-The Forever War, by Joe Haldeman**_

_**-Gods and Generals, by Jeff Shaara**_

_**-Legend, by David Gemmel**_

_**-Volumes 1 and 2 of the Saxon Chronicles by Bernard Cornwell**_

_**-The Accursed Kings, vols. 1 and 2, by Maurice Druon**_

_**-A dozen others I just can't remember right now.**_

**Feel free to PM me about anything at all, thanks for the read.**

**BSL**


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: Don't own it…**

**Chapter 14 – Interlude (pt 2)**

_Space… _A dark unending ocean that surrounds every planet across the galaxies… From the surfaces of countless worlds space represents a beautiful scenery, but from the cold metal colossuses that are starships, it is nothing but a lifeless road. After being in the jungles of Kashyyyk for over a decade, Jolee Bindo, an old Jedi veteran from the conflict against Exar Kun, found the vastness of space to be a depressingly _empty._ He missed the countless little noises that followed his sleep at night, the dew forming on tree leafs early in the morning. He was cold, he was uncomfortable, and he was grumpy.

"You asked to come along…" Reminded him a rather unfriendly young Jedi "You could at least pretend to be happy… No-no, not _happy_… That's way too much to ask. How about _indifferent_?"

Jolee hugged tighter to his brown robe "I only asked to come so you wouldn't be as lost as a castrated puppy when confronting the Sith…" He snorted "It's not like I particularly enjoy your company… I'm doing this for the Republic…"

Revan sighed and scratched his head. They were aboard the GRV-_König_, an old frigate left almost forgotten within the vast warehouses of the Republic Starport on Coruscant. Revan ordered its restoration almost as soon as he joined the military. Its hulls were a lot thinner than those of any ship currently used on the war effort, but what it lacked defensively, it more than made up for in speed. The _König_ was almost four times faster than any other frigate on the Republic fleet. The General wasn't fool enough to actually use the ship on battle maneuvers. That would be suicidal. But for quick scouting missions and the much needed fast transportation from one battlefield to the other, the old ship was absolutely perfect.

But now the _König_ travelled deep within hyperspace, heading for an unknown location well beyond Republic borders. Revan felt no remorse in bringing Jolee along for the trip to the Forge. He knew of the maps' existence, he couldn't care less about the Jedi Order, he hated politicians almost as much as Revan and his experience was desperately needed, as – and Revan grumpily admitted – the war against the Mandalorians was being run by, some might consider, children. Jolee was a 'cool head upon old shoulders', as he so wisely described himself.

Yet he wondered: Would Jolee follow him if he was to turn against the Republic? More and more Revan caught himself wondering such possibility. The Republic was a decaying giant. Its bases were the Jedi Order and the Senate. The Order hasn't changed in thousands of years, and the Senate now is nothing more than a political podium. If party intrigues ordered that an important vote would be postponed until it made no difference, the Senators felt no shame in doing so. Time and time again Revan caught himself wondering just how these people actually manage to get elected – either directly by the people or by its governing body. Did the masses actually have a memory that short?

"Sir?"

A new giant needed to rise. One built upon the ashes of the first one, one strong enough to resist the countless aggressions sure to come. Would he be the architect of such end? Would he truly be the tyrant his adversaries accused him off? Would he prove the Council right by becoming the cause of the Jedi's demise?

"Sir!" Revan's eyes focused. His stare turned to Lucius, his trusted assistant. "Are you alright, sir?"

"Yeah, fine…" The young man rubbed his tired eyes. "What is it?"

"E.T.A. to the coordinates is five hours… Maybe you should get some sleep…"

Revan smiled at the first piece of good news he'd heard in quite some time "I think I'll do just that…"

The General walked to his leather chair, tapping a few commands at a small console attached to its arm. A small microphone appeared from a previously concealed panel. Flipping a small switch next to it, Revan began to address his men.

"This is General Revan…" He began "I know many of you are currently questioning the purpose of our journey. The rumors some of you may have heard… are true. We are heading towards unknown space…"

"This is not in vain, though…" He took a deep breath; he needed to weight his next few words rather carefully "I know very few, if any of you, are aware of the different sides of the power we Jedi named 'Force'. This massive energy that surrounds us all has two different sides: One of light, one of darkness. For countless eras the Jedi have stood as firm bastions of the light. Defenders of truth and justice…"

He held the microphone near his chin as he paced the bridge's entire length, all under the careful scrutiny of Jolee Bindo "But as true towers of light, the Jedi have not moved to act against this darkness. They wait in their temples as countless lives are lost, they stand still as suffering spreads all across the galaxy… But not us…"

"We the exiles, we the outcasts, we the heretics, we stood up against tradition! And by fighting this imminent threat we've come across ancient artifacts that proved beyond a shadow of doubt that a greater evil lurks outside our borders… Armies filled with beasts, millions of dark beings whose sole purpose of existence is to bring about the extinction of all races… The darkness has a name: The True Sith Empire!"

Every single face in the bridge was turned to face him "Who should we trust to face them?" He paused a while, letting the question fill the minds of his subordinates "An old Jedi Master rotting in a temple at comfortable Coruscant?" He watched through holo-vids as several outcries began to spread across the ship "A fat politician growing rich on the money you pay them?" _No… _"Who, my friends, can we trust if not ourselves? We, who bled for this cause! We, who rose up to the challenge and faced a foe many considered unbeatable!"

Jolee controlled his emotions. The young man had a way with words… He could feel the hearts of every member of this crew becoming warmer… glowing… Revan's eyes burned with an immeasurable fire.

"And now we approach the unknown, seeking a way to defend ourselves…" He grabbed his coat and approached his chair "Whatever means we use will grow pale under the nobleness of our cause. For we fight not for the Republic or the Jedi… We fight for the preservation of life. Our life, the life of our children, the life of our loved ones… Of you, my brothers, I ask nothing but trust… Trust me that when the time comes that we must face this darkness I shall be by your side, with my saber in hand… And may the Force have mercy of those that stand on our way!"

Many were the agreeing screams that took over the hallways of the small frigate, but Revan no longer listened to them. He took a side door out of the bridge, and made his way into his sequestered room.

It didn't take long before the Knight dazed off into a much needed slumber.

* * *

Revan's figure violently hit the ground. The whole ship around him seemed to dent under an irresistible force. He hurriedly reached for his comm. unit "Will someone care to explain to me just what the hell is going on?"

"Sir!" He heard the familiar voice of Colonel Yorimaek "We've just left hyperspace, but we're trapped in some sort of tractor field!"

"Coming from?"

"The planet below…"

Revan raised an eyebrow "Planet?"

"Yes, sir… You _have_ to see this, General…"

The young man got up, still slightly drowsy. He was cold, but just didn't have the time to search for his shirt. He cursed under his breath while putting on his black robe. He recalled having the most wonderful dream before this interruption. He remembered a few parts of it. There was definitely something about Twi'lek twins, baby oil and a birthday present, though not necessarily in this order. He chuckled. If Bastila could read his thoughts at that moment he'd be in trouble.

He hurriedly made his way through the bland corridors of the Republic Frigate, reaching the bridge not five minutes afterwards. "Report…" A subordinate of his began to describe how the planet's gravity seemed to pull them towards it, but Revan's mind was elsewhere. He slowly made his way to the side of his ship, his jaw dropping in admiration.

Near the star that centered this system, Revan could clearly see the outlines of a massive space station. As far away as he was, he could see that the 'Forge' was built so that the main sectors were contained within central core, spherically shaped, surrounded by three fin-like massive metal plaques – apparently built so that the station itself could be steadily orbiting the small sun. His index finger instinctively pointed towards the distant shape "Take us to that Space station…"

"We can't, sir…" An Iridonian sergeant stood by his side, barely hiding his irritation "I've been trying to tell you, sir… A tractor beam steadily began to pull us into the nearby planet's atmosphere. We tried to escape them, with full power on our reverse throttles…"

"And?" Revan asked, impatiently. "The beam was too strong?"

"It wasn't a beam at all, sir!" He seemed distressed "Our guidance and acceleration systems were completely disabled. Only low electromagnetic signature systems such as life support and illumination are still functional…"

"A disruptor field?"

"Yes, sir…"

"But that wouldn't explain why we're heading towards the planet… The Sun's gravitational field is far more powerful…"

"And that's when our technological evaluations become guessing, sir…" He scratched one of his horns "I believe there is some device on the planet's surface that has somehow increased the planet's gravitational field. Either way, the speed we're going we'll find out rather quickly the cause… If we survive the crash, that is…"

"Your name?"

"Chief Sergeant, 12th engineering corp., Bao-Dur, General…"

"Bao-Dur, I need you restore our stabilizers… Divert energy from any other functional system… If you must, isolate and deactivate compartments to retrieve energy from its life support mechanism. Where is Colonel Yorimaek?"

"In the engine room, sir… One of the power sources overheated and set a whole room in flames…"

"Blast… Tell him to stay alert. Once you've done your part, tell him to land this craft near traces of civilization…"

The Iridonian watched in distress as his commander began to leave the bridge "Where will you be, sir?"

Revan turned around "I'm getting dressed, then I have to a few issues to discuss with Master Bindo… I'll have my communicator on me if you need anything."

* * *

The stealth field attached to HK-47's arm concealed his presence from all but the Force sensitive beings. The Coruscant lights surrounded him and reflected in the thin raindrops. Several holo displays shouted to every corner of the galaxy the wonders of their products. It was chaotic, it was useless, it was irritating… The droid made a mental note to kill the meatbag who invented advertising boards.

"**Irritated Commentary: **If I was a meatbag, I'd be complaining about my current situation…" His body was reduced to half its side, his legs' length not surpassing the half a meter measure. This was necessary so that the assassin droid would be able to fit in between two holographic advertising boards. For the fifth time that night, he adjusted the aiming parameters of his high precision rifle. "**Hopeless Pondering: **Perhaps after my

mission is finished Master will let me commit random acts of violence against unarmed pedestrians in appreciation of my effort."

His visual sensors focused on the sniper scope, zooming in on the monolithic apartment building across the street – actually an empty space, the real street being about ten kilometers closer to the planet's surface. There was his target, sitting in a silk sofa, furiously tapping his fingers into the white surface. The old man's battle hardened face seemed nervous, and it became clear to the Hunter Killer droid that Yusanis, old war veteran and military legend, was expecting company. One that, by the looks of it, was extremely late.

The message **HEAT SIGNATURE DETECTED** began flashing across HK's visual screen. He could see the building's panoramic elevator stopping at the Echani's floor, and his memory core began to record the images before him. The only person inside the elevator was a small robed figure and by HK's evaluation of its outlines, beneath such garment there was a humanoid female. Yet something was not right. Near her legs, there was some other volume, one much smaller. HK had heard his Master's so-called jokes about females and wide hips – the droid also remembered witnessing first-hand meatbag Shan's violent reaction to such comments – but that did not seem to be the case. The smaller form shifted almost nervously, and after a quick processing of his information core the droid's primary assessment was that the second volume was that of a humanoid child.

The pair entered the Echani's apartment, and HK's initial evaluation was confirmed. As soon as the door was opened, a small female child left the brown robe's constraints and flew into her father's arms. Yusanis' expression seemed to become softer, yet still slightly concerned. The larger figure lowered her hood, revealing a silver haired woman, strongly resembling the young girl. The woman approached the veteran Weapons' Master, leaning in and kissing his lips.

"**Observation: **Master, it is only due to my sheer devotion to you that I am still recording this. My visual sensors are on the verge of breakdown and my memory core is threatening to reboot and delete, so that the _viral_ content can be eliminated.** Humble Suggestion:** For missions such as this, Master, this droid recommends the construction of a new robotic model. How about Human-Lover? Hugger-Kisser?"

…

"**Conformed Statement: **I now realize my suggestions were perhaps disrespectful to your line of thought, Master. You need but to ask and this Hunter-Killer droid will deactivate itself, as to spare you of further trouble. **Closing Comments:** The trio has now moved to a room deeper into the Echani's apartment. As it was noted on the target's record that he is married and has five children, such visit is anything but unusual. Thus, this unit no longer finds it necessary to follow the meatbag's movements for today. This unit will now interrupt video recording and will begin to prepare today's report. Hunter-Killer 47 out…"

* * *

The irritating sound of the doorbell woke Jolee Bindo up. He sat up, rubbing his eyes and cursing whoever the hell had the nerve to trouble his much needed sleep. Drowsily making his way to the door, the old Master grabbed his worn out robe, putting it over his shoulders. His room was rather bland, but then again what else could you expect from a military vessel? There was a small singles' bed, a durasteel desk with a matching chair, and a small closet, with access to a private bathroom. He pressed a small square button by the door's panel, cursing upon the sight of young Jedi Revan Stormrider. "What the hell do you want?" He grouchily greeted his unexpected guest "I'm old, my daily routine consists of twenty hours rest…"

The young man sniggered, his hands behind his back "We need to talk…" He brought his hands forward, a pair of silver cups on one hand and a bottle of Corelian ale at the other "I figured you wouldn't be cooperative, so I brought some company with me…"

Bindo simply stood there, and for a minute or so considered the issue "Alright, get in…" He made way so that the former Knight would enter "But you'd better hope that thing warms my throat, or there'll be no 'talking' and a hell of a lot 'ignoring' from my part…"

Revan smiled and poured the distilled liquid into the two cups, handing one of them to the old man. "You heard my speech on the bridge a little earlier…"

"I was _there_, you know…"

"Yes, yes… But those words… I meant everything I said to my men back then…" His face was grim "I will save the Republic, by whatever means necessary…"

Jolee frowned "And what means do you currently have in mind?"

"It's a Sith principle…"

The old man raised an eyebrow "Yes?"

Revan seemed hesitant "To empower the Republic, one must conquer it…" Jolee's laughter took over the room, and the young man grew impatient "Can you say to me, with a straight face, that the Senate and its courts are capable of withstanding the onslaught of the True Sith? They couldn't cope with the Mandalorians…"

"The Mandalorians are a bunch of children in armor…"

"Exactly my point! And if the Republic wasn't able to cope with them…"

"The Senate didn't act on the Mandalorians, because the Senate didn't feel the need to do so…" Revan was confused. This man was supposed to be as opposed to authority as he was "I'm guessing they believed it was just a matter of time before the Jedi intervened…"

"Kid, don't get me wrong…" He continued "But you are far from being the Republic's last hope. It was only a matter of time before a Jedi got pissed off and decided to join the war, and that action would be like the crack at the dam. In fact, if you died right now it wouldn't make that much of a difference… Hell, some could say a martyr has far greater use to a cause than a hero…"

Revan sat at Jolee's bed, lowering his shoulders in disappointment. The old man's speech made sense: He was a pawn in this game, not the king.

"Plus, if you think of it, this galaxy is just too big for a single race, such as the Mandalorians, to conquer. When you consider their supplies are limited to the production of handful of planets, their impetus would wear out eventually, long before reaching the systems surrounding Coruscant… This isn't the first war the Republic has waged, and almost certainly it won't be the last…"

Revan laid down. He stared at the purple liquid inside his cup, feeling significantly smaller than when he entered the room "Then what the hell do you propose? Just go to the Senate with our case? Almost certainly, it would create a commotion, but they're already committing large sums of money into this conflict, they wouldn't move a finger to fight an enemy they couldn't see… The Jedi might take a few actions…"

"The Jedi would do zilch…" Jolee sat down on his chair, crossing his feet over his desk "Don't get me wrong, they'd send scouting parties, monitoring crews and even a few skirmish groups, but unless the Senate is involved they can't even scratch the surface of this issue…"

"It would take the full power of the Galaxy's military to counter such a threat…" Revan raised his eyebrow, curiously looking at the old Master "And I couldn't see any other way to do so but by conquering it…"

"Creating a parallel force outside Republic borders wouldn't address the issue, and neither would heading off to that unknown planet to challenge the Sith Lords…" He shook his head in doubt "Hell, I don't know… You're the General, not me…"

Revan covered his face with his hands "Force, I'm just too bloody tired to do this…"

"Tired?"

"Tired of being the one in charge, tired of being relied upon, tired of being looked at by trillions of people, but most of all I'm tired of this whole frigging responsibility!" He was almost shouting "With a few words, I can order the death of thousands, if not millions of people… Almost all of the Republic military is under my direct command… When the people see a battle, they call for my presence, no matter how small it is. I'm frigging tired of this whole Force-forsaken pressure!"

"You know the old saying: With great powers…"

"Comes a life of fucking slavery…" For a while no words were spoken. Revan's chest rose and fell in a constant rhythm, almost heavily "I want to think about myself, for a bloody change… I want to buy a house, I want to marry my girlfriend, I want to have a quiet drink with my friends, I want to have a not-so-quiet drink with my friends, I want to take a vacation… A damned long vacation…"

"Self pity won't get you anywhere…" Jolee's voice was softer "But, in all fairness, you brought this responsibility upon yourself…"

"I'm twenty one years old…" The young man shook his head in disbelief "Twenty one… It's still too much to bear alone…"

Jolee sat up straight "Look kid, your whole life is based on the choices you make, and bearing this responsibility alone is one of them… It's your choice to be alone, _or not._ You have friends, don't you?"

Revan nodded.

"Then share your burden, you dimwitted moron! Give command of an army to a Jedi friend of yours, set the assignment of capturing a planet to a particularly competent officer… For blast's sake, leave the '_it's up to me!'_ act!" The old man scratched his bald head "As I said, your life revolves around the choices you make. And once they're done, there's no turning back, so you'd better learn to love them… What will frustration and self loathing do for you? Nothing, so take a step forward and move on…"

Just then, Revan's communicator beamed to life "General, we're entering the atmosphere of the unknown planet…" It was the voice of Colonel Yorimaek "Bao-Dur has managed to fix our stabilizers, but we don't how much good that will do for us. We're on a constant descent, and if a mountain just happens to be right in the middle of our course, we're done for…"

"Thank you, Lucius, I'll be right there…" Revan got up from the bed, standing in front of Master Bindo "I can't even begin to express how much this conversation helped me…"

"I'm not a psychiatrist, you know…" Jolee smirked "But as my fee, that bottle of ale stays right here…"

Revan smirked. Just as the room's doors hissed open, the former Knight turned around "Oh, and by the way… I thought about what you said…" His face was grim, his green eyes focused on the old man "If the Republic should fall by my hand, will you be able choose a side? Will you be able to stand in my way knowing what I fight against? Will you be able to fight alongside me against the Jedi and the Senate?"

Bindo's stern gaze never left Revan's eyes, and as the doors closed he could hear the young Knight's firm voice: "You've got some pretty important choices to make yourself, old man…"

With such, Revan left; and an old Master Jolee Bindo was left alone with his thoughts. He just wasn't managing to sort them out too well. He simply sat there for minutes, wondering if he should be worried, or _proud_.

* * *

The bright sands and salty smell of Rakata Prime gave a casual observer the mistaken feeling of welcoming. For a Force sensitive being, Rakata Prime was a blight in the universe. Revan had been in Malachor, and the darkness of that ancient world had nearly killed him. But this planet… this tropical paradise, this sunny horizon, hid something far more sinister and far more terrifying. "I don't like this place…" Revan said, as he stared down at the beach bellow, and the wrecked frigate. "There's something different about this planet… It stinks of darkness, but it's less evident than most Sith based worlds…"

"The planet seems dead…" Bindo noticed. The two Jedi and the Iridonian engineer, Bao-Dur, were at the summit of the so called Temple of the Elders. "In Korriban, the Darkness has a pulse… it emanates its taint. In here, I sense nothing but a faded feeling…"

"I agree…" Revan nodded watching one of the planet's moons near the horizon "This place is a graveyard…"

"Sir, with all due respect…" Bao-Dur rubbed the sweat off his pale forehead. He was kneeling down near the two Jedi, working on deactivating the disruptor field, while his team dealt with the damage to the _König_ "Look around you… This place is brimming with life… There are fruits I've never heard of, animals from every corner of the Galaxy, if we are to believe that Elder Rakata… This planet seems anything but dead…"

"There's more to life than biological structures, young man…" Bindo turned around to face the kneeling sergeant "Every being in this galaxy possesses a connection to the Force, a small stream leading from the immeasurable ocean that binds us all together within it. What changes in a Force sensitive being is that he can interact with this ocean… He can swim across his own stream and into the streams of others… He can interact with objects in touch of this massive ocean, such as rocks, ships, to serve his own purpose…"

"And on this planet, you can find but a residue…"

"Revan is right…" Jolee nodded "You can see a massive clash between the darkness and the light took place in here… As all accounts inform us, the Dark won. It rewarded its followers, it brought their oppressing civilization to the status of Empire, one that controlled many other systems, one large enough to be called Infinite… But as a building that grew too tall, its base crumbled…"

"The Rakata…" Revan interrupted "They, the ones that basked within the streams of their own corruption, soon saw natural order, natural balance, turned against them…"

"For all great shadow, there is a greater light… As the darkness grew and grew, it threatened to swallow the whole galaxy into its abyss… The Force has a tendency to search for balance, an equilibrium between the dark and the light. And according to the Rakata Elders, this 'retribution' of sorts came in the form of a plague…" Jolee paused, and for a while Revan wondered what thoughts troubled the old man's mind "Their Empire collapsed, their race was nearly extinct, and the devouring darkness could only consume itself until it faded…"

"I'm sorry…" Bao-Dur looked a little confused "But if the Darkness fell, shouldn't the light occupy this place, instead of abandoning it as you're claiming?"

"Perhaps this planet's so called life is so deeply enrooted within its own fading darkness that even the slightest disturbance would cause a biological breakdown…" Revan narrowed his eyes "If you think of it, this planet is perfectly balanced… It stands on the edge of a knife but not between the dark and the light, but between the fading taint and absolute oblivion…"

"Between nothing and a horrible 'something'…" Bindo pondered the matter for some time, before shaking his head and turning towards the Iridonian man "No matter, the issue we have right now is leaving this place…"

"I'm nearly done, sir…" Bao-Dur looked over the small technological device, wondering if he missed any detail "I've done the modifications you told me about, General… I've transferred the controls to the activation of the disruptor field to my remote, and deactivated the gravitational enhancer…"

"We'll take it with us…" His gazed followed a small white robotic sphere that hovered around the Iridonian "Strange device this remote of yours…"

"It helps me around a lot…" The young sergeant smiled "Should I call some men to help me carry this device?"

"Why are you taking it with us?"

Revan looked at the old Master "It's a potential weapon…"

"We can perhaps enhance the gravity of a planet to draw all ships orbiting it towards the surface…" Bao-Dur nodded, his mind already calculating the modifications necessary "It would decide an immense space battle in a matter of minutes…"

"Work on it…" Revan nodded to his subordinate "And please do call a few of your men to help you carry it…"

As the two Jedi left, the young Iridonian engineer was left alone with his thoughts, and the prospect of researching this ancient technology in an effort to perfect it excited him. Little did he know that he would be the architect of one of the greatest bloodbaths in the history of the Republic.

* * *

The new space superiority fighter, the Hermes GN-23, darted across the Coruscant skies. The immense skyscrapers provided the perfect exercise for a rusty pilot, and Serra Ors handled her aircraft expertly, as it swirled around the clouds of the Upper City. While it wasn't nearly as well armed as the standard Khan fighters, or the Tortoise gunships, the Hermes more than balanced that equation with downright amazing maneuverability and dazzling speed. It was armed with the typical double laser batteries near the edge of its wings, while it carried a large number of the TMS-Firefly, small guided missiles with the destructive power of a 5,000 ton old fashioned bomb. It was a fighter designed to sweep the galactic space clean of Mandalorian ships, or as Ms. Ors would call it: playtime.

"Would you please slow down!" The young Jedi turned her helmed head, staring amusingly at her loud passenger "I have no plans to return to that hospital in the near future!"

Serra Ors laughed out loud "You needed some air, Bastila… Doctor's orders…" the young pilot pushed the ship's handle forward, taking the fighter to a steep dive "Plus, you've been kept in a bit of a cage, as of lately… Time for you to take some risks…"

Bastila screamed at the top of her lungs. She inhaled deeply as the ship stabilized close to fifty kilometers high "One, taking me out for some air and putting me in an oxygen mask isn't what I had in mind… Two…" She cursed as the fighter dodged a walking platform by less than five meters "Two… I have no problem in dying for a cause I believe in, but dying because my best friend is a blazing lunatic is not something I am ready for!"

"Yeah, right… Like Revan would let you die…" The ship began to gain altitude, and Bastila sighed in relief as she noticed the Military Headquarters in the near horizon "You barely ever come close to real fighting… I know your Battle Meditation is important, Bastila, but can you really say you've made an absolute difference in these last battles?"

"I know the limits of my abilities…" The ship began to slow down and Serra prepared for their landing "I'd struggle to comprehend how my skills would aid the Republic deep within the forests of Dxun…"

"You can wield a saber, that's more than enough…" was Serra's curt reply. The landing was smooth, nearly fully controlled by the ship's automatic piloting system. The pair jumped out of the cabin, and for a moment Serra could only uneasily watch her best friend remove her helmet "Look, I'm sorry if I offended you, Bastila, but you're only as fragile as you let yourself become… We were dueling partners. I know you can wield a blade as well as any being to ever grow a Padawan braid…"

Bastila raised an eyebrow "I'm not sure that's a compliment…"

"All I'm saying is that you complain about being too fragile, you talk and talk about fearing being Revan's weak spot… Well grow out of that status…"

"And how do you believe I should do that?" She removed her gloves, revealing her pale slender hands "Do you forget the only Master within the Republic forces is now buried bellow Malachor sands? Where would I seek guidance? Revan? Malak? They can barely sleep an hour without someone waking them up to handle a problem…"

Serra stared to the floor in silence, contemplating Bastila's question. They walked between endless corridors of fighter and bomber wings. As they approached the Hangar's exit, the tall blast doors hissed open to reveal a polished steel hallway, leading to both the elevators on one wing and the pilots' dormitories on the other. A dim humming sound power on the transport, and soon they were on their way to the upper floors.

"I could help you with your saber skills…" Serra said, staring at the growing number near the elevator's panel "As I've said, we were always dueling partners, and I'm guessing you're a little rusty… The first step should be getting you back to your previous form…"

Bastila smiled sadly "Alright, alright… I guess it wouldn't hurt to fence a little every morning, at six?"

"0500 hours Bastila…" She smirked at her friend's disappointed stare "At 6 I'm already overseeing the arrival of the new Battleships… I need to handle the loading of the fuel, the distribution of the troops… Revan needs to assign which officer commands which ship… By the way, where _is_ he?"

"Who, Revan? He left for the Outer Rim about a week ago… Took Lucius and a Frigate with him…"

"Why?"

"Oh, I don't know…" The elevator halted and two friends walked out onto the marble tiles of the 42nd floor "I think there's something more to this war, Serra… Something that, hopefully, few will ever know of…"

Serra frowned and gave her friend a questioning look "Nothing to worry about at the moment, my friend…" Bastila smiled "Your only trouble should be keeping your guard tomorrow at six…"

"Five!"

* * *

The ramp of the transport ship steadily lowered itself to meet the hard metal floor of the wrecked hangar bay. There was no sound as the surfaces met, there was no oxygen, no life support, no light showing their path. Hard gravitational boots shook the light grill of the ramp, seven men assuredly pacing their way to the ruins of what was once the great Star

Forge. Revan turned his helmed head to the left, watching as three other ships descended upon the Hangar, waiting for his soldiers to join him.

"Alright…" He said, over his comm. unit "Alpha to Delta, secure the east wing, Gama and Zeta, follow me…"

He walked to his left, nodding in approval as a small astromech droid moved up alongside him. Each unit needed at least one droid, as odds were the locks and panels would either be coded or not functioning at all. Revan's eyes scanned the environment. Some would say this was nothing but an ancient wreck. Revan would call it an engineering marvel. Modern engineering constructed buildings with a durability span of a thousand years, tops… Here stood a structure with more than ten thousand years, and by the looks of it, some basic maintenance and electrical repairs would have this station up and running again. He switched his comm. unit once more "The first to find the life support sector gets a round of free drinks on the König's cantina…"

Revan smiled as the cheers came through his ear piece "Bao-Dur, stand by with your team… As soon as that sector is found I want you to make it functional…"

"Aye, sir…"

He switched off his communicator, and stopped before a massive double blast door. Revan waved his hand, signaling for the droid to approach. The diminutive robot made its way to a side panel, and began to work on activating the opening mechanism. The huge metal doors hissed open and a pair of mynocks soundly flew by the Republic soldiers. Brief flashes lit the room and Revan needed not look back to know the beasts had been taken care of.

"Open your eyes, we don't know what we'll face from now on…" Revan flipped a small switch by the front of his space gear, and a dim light began to show them their way. The structure itself very much resembled the ordinary space station. Several wings of personal chambers, combined with the typical supporting rooms, such as medical bays, cantinas and training facilities. It wasn't long before the Knight found himself before the all familiar sight of an elevator pad. He turned to the astro droid "Get it fixed…"

The droid beeped almost happily, and hurried to the elevator's panel. It didn't take long for the little robot to work his magic. Revan heard the distant humming of the elevator moving its way through the shaft, and patted the droid lightly on its upper plating. "Excellent job…"

He turned towards his men "Wait, here… I'll be back in no ti- Oh, blast…"

Revan sighed deeply at the approaching figure "I never got the hang of these damned space suits…" Bindo stared at the Knight's face "What are you waiting for? Are we going or not?"

"We?"

"Hell, I'm not gonna wait at that damned ship with that ugly ass Iridonian… I thought I might as well go with you…"

The sun shield over Revan's visor was still down, but Jolee somehow sensed the man's features carried a deep frown "Right…" He shook his head "I don't suppose I can do anything about it, since I didn't authorize your presence on the transport ships either, and yet here you are…"

Jolee smirked. "And since when a pup like you has the power to authorize me or not?"

The elevator doors hissed open, and Revan thought it best to give in to the old man's demands. He turned around, entering the elevator alongside the small astromech. He impatiently stared at the former Jedi Master, turning his head slightly to the side so he could face his men "Any explosions on this wing can be credited to me shoving a thermal' up Master Jolee's rectum…"

"Just because you like it doesn't mean I do…" The old man entered the elevator, and pressed the last button on its pad. The doors sealed shut and the transport dashed towards the upper levels of the Star Forge. "Have you seen anything interesting?"

Revan tilted his head sideways and flipped a small switch near the back of his helm. The sun filter on his visor retracted, and Jolee laughed out loud at the man's face. "What the hell is so funny?"

"You look like Murray on a fish bowl…"

Revan raised an eyebrow "Murray?"

"Grumpy guy, ah… Never mind… Anyway, you haven't answered my question: Found anything?"

The former Knight sighed "No, but I didn't expect to find anything. I don't think the Rakata are stupid as to build vital structures at the same level as their hangar… Luckily, we'll find the bridge on the last floor… Maybe we can find the base's schematics…"

The elevator suddenly came to a halt, and the pair warily exited its relative safety, stepping into the dark environment of the Forge's bridge. "By the Force…" Revan heard Jolee utter. The young man cursed involuntarily… _By the Force, indeed…_

The makings of a slaughter were spread across the room. Decrepit Rakata corpses laid around the bridge, the evident signs of a mutiny. "Most peculiar, don't you think, Master Bindo? The heat from the nearby sun prevented them from freezing, and at the same time killed every bacteria responsible for their decay… They are the same way they were, what, ten thousand years ago?"

Jolee stepped deeper into the room. It was much like any bridge ever built on a station or battleship. Monitoring desks covered the lower floor, surrounding a ramp leading up to where the Forge's commanding officer's chair was placed. A small seat, apparently covered with some form of dark blue leather, hovered a few feet above the ground, surrounded by a circular plasteel table, filled with monitors, pads and buttons. The bridge was obviously a small fraction of the Forge's circular main body, and the upper deck had a clear view, through dozens of some transparent panels made from a glass-like surface Jolee could not clearly identify, of both the star bellow and the faraway planet.

Revan approached him on the upper deck "We need life support back, and as soon as possible the central power system as well…" Jolee did not respond. He knew the young man spoke not to him, but to his engineer. The respond soon followed "We're already on the support wings, General…" The Iridonian's voice seemed tired, yet strangely fascinated "It might be hard to believe, but the very oxygen of this station is withdrawn from the star bellow…"

"And cooled, somehow, I suppose…" Revan seemed impatient "Bao-Dur, can you fix it or not?"

"It doesn't seem broken, sir… The atmosphere generator shut down automatically… No oxygen was consumed; it saw no need to generate any more… My men are working on it as we speak…"

"And the power…"

"Soon enough, sir… From what our squads are reporting, this is indeed a massive shipyard. But the most impressive thing about it is that there is no massive depot of raw material. The iron is taken directly from the star's core."

"That is the first good news I've been given today, Sergeant…"

"Indeed, sir… The power, even, is drawn from the star's radiation…"

"So it is completely self-sufficient…"

"It's more than that, General… This station could build a star fleet in a matter of months!"

Revan said nothing for a brief moment, but Jolee could sense the man's relief at those words. It seemed as if a massive weight had been lifted from his shoulders. The old master could not help but to shudder. This station would be a massive weapon in the hands of a just paladin, or a terrifying tool of destruction in the hands of a mad man. As he stared upon the features of the young Jedi before him, he could not convince himself clearly he was either of them. The road to hell is paved with good intentions, and in Revan's heart, Jolee could see nothing but the best intentions.

"By the Force, he's gone senile…"

Bindo frowned and looked at the young man. Revan was staring at him with a confused look on his face. "You talked to me?"

"Yes…" Revan scowled. He waved his hand around "What do you make of the Star Forge?"

The old Master frowned and looked around "I'll be completely honest with you, son, and tell you I don't know what to make of this…" He took a deep breath of the helm's filtered air "But if I am sure about one thing it is that this is no ordinary shipwright…"

As if taking up on the old Master's lead, Revan's comm. unit beeped to life "General, we need you down here…"

Revan met the old man's concerned stare "Is there a problem?"

"A threshold of sorts, sir… Delta squad has lost two men already…"

"It's impossible for something to be alive all these years and with no atmosphere… Was it a trap or a robotic defender?"

"No sir… It's a room… I… I don't know how to explain it to you…"

"Where is this place, Sergeant?"

"31st floor of the east wing, sir…"

"I'm on my way…"

* * *

Revan left the fainted Jolee Bindo behind. The oxygen supply was already reestablished on the lower rooms, and the former Knight was glad to once again be clad in his black robes. The downright intoxicating presence surrounded him. It filled his nostrils with the all familiar 'stench' of darkness. Jolee could not handle it, even in the relative isolation of his space suit. Combined with his armor, only his former contacts with the dark kept him from being killed instantly. The Star Map was right… The true challenge indeed awaited him at the Forge.

It was but a room, yet Revan could sense it was the true core of the Forge. The Force flew not through it, but from it. There was no source of light, and if there was, the young man doubted it would be able to penetrate the suffocating darkness that filled the room. The doors hissed shut behind him, and he could sense the entire station suddenly becoming aware of his presence. The Forge became _conscious _of him.

He expected a large, black robed lord of darkness. He expected a huge mouth engulfing his entire existence. What appeared before him was a diminutive Rakata elder, clad in a crimson mantle, standing on a rotten wooden cane. Revan fell to his knees, feeling a sharp pain at the back of his head. The Forge probed his memories, his knowledge, his very identity... The fish like creature smiled. "Revan Stormrider… You seek the power of the Builders…"

The pain stopped, and Revan could only hear the hum deep within his mind. He gritted his teeth, grunting in absolute anger. The creature's voice didn't come from its mouth. It was formed and uttered inside his mind. "Don't try to kick me out, foul being… It is you who have come before me, and now you must prove yourself worthy…"

"What is the Forge, creature?" The Rakata moved behind him within the blink of an eye "Is it only a shipwright? Or is it something more…" The dark being held his chin with its decrepit hand "Is it the Dark, the ultimate force of destruction, channeled for creation?"

"What… must… I… humpf… do?" Revan could only utter a few words. His lungs seemed covered with coal dust, his arteries seemed clogged with darkness "What will make me worthy?"

Another blink of an eye, the creature returned to his previous spot, a few meters away "You do not use the Forge, creature…" The absolute darkness around him vanished, and the endless stars and galaxies of the known universe surrounded him. "It is as ridiculous as the idea to use the stars… The Forge is a being… The embodiment of Darkness, the ultimate proof of our triumph over the Force… You do not use it… You _tame it…_"

"T-tame it?"

"Embrace it!" the Rakata held his arms up high "Absorb it! _Triumph over it!_ When the dark is truly under your full control, then, and only then, will the Forge be obedient to your will…"

The stars vanished, and Revan found himself surrounded by a dark cloud. Endlessly it spread its vaporous fumes over the horizon, and the young Knight suddenly held his breath. "Do you fear it?" He heard within his mind "Than the Forge will never be truly yours…"

Revan stared at a fixed point directly in front of him, and his Force presence began to shine. The green maelstrom encircled him, and the clouds of smoke were drawn closer. Revan shouted, and the poisonous darkness around him was sucked into his own massive presence. Like a black hole his presence grew, and the young Knight soon found himself enjoying his sudden feeling of control.

The Darkness was within him. Within his veins, his cells, the very air he breathed. It became a part of him… Revan could not suppress a dark laughter "And he believed I would not be able to tame it? He thought I would fail?"

And fail, he did…

* * *

A sickening scream echoed through the Forge's corridors, and Jolee Bindo was suddenly awake. He sat up, checking his belt. Thankfully, his saber still hung close to his waist. Bao-Dur and a handful of men stood a few meters behind him, a look of absolute terror plastered upon their faces. "Master…" One of them said "… Was… that General Revan?"

And then he knew it. Revan had entered the dark core of the Star Forge. He had faced its darkness, and from the first indications, had failed miserably on resisting it. "Stay back…" Jolee advised, getting up "Whoever stands in that room, it is not your General…"

And then Revan stepped into the hallway.

For those who had seen the young man on the war's early days, his recent look was concerning. For those who had seen his recent look, the man's features as he exited the Forge's core were absolutely shocking. His face, already pale from the constant use of his mask, was nearly ashen, with black veins seemingly popping up from the corner of his eyes and mouth. His eyes, once vibrant and crystalline blue, now dimmed in a sickening yellow tone. His lips were dark, almost purple, and his hair seemed to have lost some of its color. To all effects, the man before Jolee was a walking corpse.

"Fool…" The old man cursed "Have you not learned a thing from your journey to Malachor? Or was the Forge's temptation too much for you to resist?"

Revan's saber calmly hovered to his hand. The curved hilt hummed, and a long crimson blade shone its menacing light upon the room. "Temptation is something for the weak, Master Bindo…" the young Knight's voice was cracked, weak, sickened "For us, the strong, we see temptations as nothing but an opportunity… A window opened…"

Bindo chuckled "Since when an insolent pup like you would be considered 'strong'?"

A flicker of light, and the old Master barely had the time to raise his emerald blade. A thread of lightning left each of Revan's fingers, only to be completely absorbed by Jolee's lightsaber.

"The strength of the Forge runs through me!" Revan's feet left the ground, and for the first time in thousands of years, two blades of pure light met within the halls of the Star Forge. Their sabers sung in unison, their blades rarely met. It was a battle of anticipation, a struggle evenly matched "I have tamed the wild beast! The Forge is mine!"

"Ha!" Jolee laughed and rolled away from a vertical strike "I've never seen one taming a beast by bowing before it…"

Revan growled. His slashes became more powerful, filled with uncontrolled anger. His breathing was ragged and drool fell from the side of his mouth, while Jolee remained the face of serenity. The old Master smiled. He knew this battle was won. "The dark clouds not only your judgment, son…" His emerald blade singed the young man's right knee "It causes you to lose focus on your immediate surroundings… Already you picture my fallen corpse at your feet, but by planning the ends, you disregard the means…"

A twist of a wrist, a swing of a blade, and Revan's saber floated within inches of his face. His eyes widened, before all he saw was a beam of green. He stumbled backwards, feeling a numbing pain on his left eye. He smelled burning metal, and immediately knew his blade was lost. He shouted, desperately swinging his arms around his body. His rage gave way to hopelessness, as a sharp pain struck his abdomen. The stench of burned flesh reached his nostrils, and however blinded he might have been, he knew an emerald blade was firmly stuck just above his waist.

"Don't worry…" He heard Bindo's voice. The old man's warm breath reached his sweaty face "I didn't hit any vital organs… But still, I need only to move my wrist in any direction and your life is over…"

"You… wouldn't dare…"

"No?"

"The Republic needs me!"

"The Republic needs a General… A cold hearted bastard willing to sacrifice his own life for a victory…" He snorted "The Republic has no need for a madman…"

Revan coughed, and blood left the sides of his mouth "Bas… Bastila…"

"The girl?" The old man raised an eyebrow "I've been to your mind, Revan… She feeds on your strength and you feed on her weakness… You complete each other. Do you truly believe she would look up to you in tenderness… That she would stare upon your decrepit face and long for a kiss?"

Tears fell from Revan's eyes, not from the pain, not from his weakness. His mind was isolated from the physical world. His world once again became nothing but a dark room, filled with clouds of black smoke, and the ethereal presence of the Rakata elder. "Pathetic…" The creature calmly walked around the knelt figure of Revan Stormrider, his cane rhythmically tapping the steel floor "The power you now wield created the Infinite Empire, yet you could not overpower an old Jedi…"

"Do not listen to him…" Jolee's voice echoed through the room "The moment you exited that room, you controlled nothing, not even your own actions…"

"Pick up your blade, creature…"

"My blade is gone…"

The Rakata swung his cane, hitting Revan's back. "There is a blade on your abdomen… Because it is within your flesh, does it make it any less lethal?"

"Turn away from him, son…" Jolee's voice was deep, like a father, like a tutor, he guided Revan's mind away from the abyss that was the Forge "You are not ready for the Forge's power… To not dive into a lake without knowing how to swim…"

"Useless human!"

"Silence!" The old Master's voice thundered through Revan's mind "Young man, you are facing the abyss with lustful eyes… You're being lured by its voice, yet all you hear is the echoes of your own dark thoughts… Do not revel in Darkness when there is so much light in your life…"

"Bastila…"

His heart felt warmer, his mind felt lighter. His own body seemed to glow… A bridge of pure light was formed. The Rakata yelled incomprehensible words, but Revan no longer cared. The Forge had been his obsession; the Forge had been his quest… And for what? At the Forge he found nothing but a well of darkness, nothing but a trap. Jolee was right. His mind and soul were not prepared for this challenge. Yet Revan would not just give up. The Forge was his. He would conquer this fortress, he would brave this untamed beast. But not now…

As now the light engulfed him, and Revan knew nothing more.

* * *

Revan fell to the ground, unconscious. The Iridonian engineer, who had so far simply watched as the two dueled, both on the hallway and within Revan's mind, approached his superior officer. He checked the young Knight's pulse, and exhaled deeply. "He's alive, but extremely weak…"

"I share that status, young man…" Jolee stumbled backwards, and rested his back against the opposite wall "We need to get out of here… Call the men back. We leave as soon as we can…"

"But sir… the Forge…"

"Is untamable, at the moment… I wouldn't worry… Revan has no plans to use this station against the Mandalorian forces…"

"Sir, but…"

"Oh, shut up, you damned idiot… Get me a med kit, get him a gurney, and get the hell out of here…" He watched as two men approached the General, gently laying his unconscious body

on a medical gurney "This young man stood before a colossus today… An evil over a thousand years old…"

"Yes, sir…" Bao-Dur sadly stared as his General was carried off, meanwhile offering a shoulder to help Bindo to their ship "Will he tame it, sir, the Forge?"

Jolee smirked "You can count on it…" He coughed, almost dozing off in the arms of the Sergeant "But he needs to learn one thing before it: Without the Forge, he is a General, a leader, and one of the most skilled Jedi I've ever seen… Without him, the Forge is but an empty threat. It is as a sequestered evil… He needs not to wield it respectfully… He must chain it as the beast it truly is…"

* * *

Revan limped off the ramp of his transport, holding his hand over his most recent scar, a sun-shaped piece of burnt skin a few inches away from his bellybutton. The wound still stung, and the young man smirked playfully, noticing with a tad of irony that while he had several enemies, the most serious injury he had sustained to this day was the work of an ally. He turned to that ally, most precisely Master Jolee Bindo, and laughed "Do you have any idea how hard it will be to explain this to the others?"

The old man shook his head "It is a matter of trust, kid…" He rubbed his untrimmed goatee "Those you trust, you tell them the truth… Those you don't, you owe them no explanation."

It was Revan's turn to shake his head, yet he realized the man's advice was absolutely correct "How do you change so quickly from an old prick to a wise master?"

Jolee shrugged "It's a gift…"

The former Knight smiled and continued his path through the Academy's hangar. From being to Outer Rim worlds, searching for ancient artifacts from a long gone empire, Revan found the blandness and mass scaled environments of the old Army building surprisingly welcoming. Few soldiers recognized him, one of the advantages of constantly wearing a mask over your face. Moreover, considering the Republic forces were led by Jedi, it wasn't uncommon to see their robed figures strolling around the Academy.

Their small journey to Revan's office was pretty uneventful. They stopped at the medical ward, where the young man picked up some healing ointments and a small case of medkits, and the armory, where he dropped some of his personal weapons, with the obvious exception of his saber, for their routine maintenance. His dark glass doors seemed were unwelcoming, as he had intended, yet they made no change in the young man's humor: This was the closest to a home he had had for the past two years. He held his gaze over the retina scanner, and a loud clank unlocked the glass doors before him.

His office was empty, his table spotless. He was pleased to see his things attended to, and even more pleased to see the signature scan on his personal computer pad unlock before him, for the first time in weeks, requesting his eleven digit password. He didn't hesitate:

"_AuburnAngel"_

The overwhelming amount of messages waiting for him didn't trouble him. Quite the opposite, actually, it pleased him. It was a bit of a contrast with Bindo's idea that the war

would carry on perfectly without him. The troop drafting didn't stop without him, but the training still depended heavily on some decisions regarding the camps' locations, and the arms contracts, for the new rifle models, for instance. "So this is your office…" His gaze went from the screen to the old man's face "Not nearly as high tech as I'd imagine… Don't understand a thing, though…"

"Yes?"

"The glass doors… not nearly as prohibitive or as defensive as a blast door…"

"The glass is reinforced… It'd take an artillery shell to breach it…" He heard footsteps approaching "Plus, if there's an attack on the Academy, you won't find me hiding in here…"

The same clank as before was heard, and a pair of former Jedi Padawans entered Revan's office. Two startled emerald eyes stared deeply into the face of the Republic General. He rose from his chair, calmly walking the short distance to the doorway. He took his lover into his arms. "When did you arrive?" She asked. Bastila Shan ran a delicate finger over a long vertical line that crossed through the middle of his left eye, stopping halfway through his cheek. This, you might say, was Revan's second most recent scar "What happened to you?"

He smirked "Some sand got to my eyes and I tried to scratch it off…" He winked "…but I forgot I had my lightsaber powered on…"

She slapped him across his shoulder, and if not for a determined cough coming from the other end of the room, she would have kissed him that very instant. Revan turned and held out a hand in the direction of the noise. Bindo slowly walked to their side and bowed, respectfully. "This is Master Jolee Bindo…" Revan introduced him "I found him inside a dumpster in Nar Shaddaa…"

"Funny man…" Jolee slapped Revan's cheek, in what could be called a playful way, if not for the red mark in the young man's face "Anyway, pleased to meet you, miss…"

"Shan… Bastila Shan…" The young woman was slightly uncomfortable as she met the man's short bow. She quickly turned and called her so far neglected companion "This is my friend Serra…"

"Pleased to meet you…" Serra gave the man a short bow. The two women were drenched in sweat, a fact that, from the look on Revan's face, puzzled him "We were practicing saber techniques…"

"Ah…" Revan smiled "Serra, can you find Master Bindo a room in the Officer's wing?"

Serra's smile was clearly uncomfortable but she understood Revan's motives "Sure… Please, Master, will you follow me?"

The old Master bowed in appreciation, but before they could leave Revan yelled "We usually eat in here, Master, at 1400 hours… Can I expect you to be here?"

Jolee smirked "You can expect me any time you wish, kid…" He turned around and headed for the door "But if I'll show up, that's another matter entirely…"

Revan shook his head. He wasn't sure if he was happy or not that the 'old prick' had returned to Bindo's personality, but he didn't dwell on those thoughts for too long. He and Bastila finally had some time alone, and Revan knew he had important issues to discuss with his lover. One, in particular, of greater importance…

He once again brought her into his arms, holding her closer to his body "Revan, please…" She said, uncomfortably "I'm filthy after practicing with Serra…"

"You're never filthy, my queen…" He said, and upon hearing this new nickname Bastila could only chuckle "Plus, I've got something I want to talk to you about…"

"Can't it wait until I am bathed and properly clothed?"

"No, we've waited long enough for this…"

He brought her near his desk, seating her on his leather chair and kneeling before it. He held both her hands within his, and he could feel her pulse speeding up. "How long have we been together?"

"A year, I guess… It's hard to tell time while shifting from planet to planet…"

He smiled warmly "A year of trust, love, and sharing… Bastila, there are times I feel like telling everyone to go to hell, picking up a small ship, and carrying you with me to an unknown planet…"

She leaned forward and laid a light kiss on his lips. "We share that dream, then…"

"Bastila, there isn't a thing in this universe that matters more to me than you…" Their breaths mingled, their lips were only a few centimeters apart. "I… I really…"

He sighed, leaning back and reaching for something at a back pocket "I struggle to find words meaningful enough to match my feelings at this particular moment… I can only hope this is enough…" He brought before her a small velvet box, that when opened revealed a slender silver ring. He no longer needed to feel her pulse. He could as well hear it, and tell it by the crimson tone of her face "Our lives are already one, Bastila… Will you make it official?"

Watery eyes nervously stared at the small piece of jewelry. Time passed, and still no word was uttered by the young woman. "Bast, dear?" His voice woke her up from her daydream. All her life she pictured a life of servitude under the order, yet now she saw something else before her. A dignified future, not as a servant of the light, but as something she quite couldn't describe. Her stare of confusion must have startled him "Are you alright?"

She jumped forward, her seat loudly hitting the window behind it. Her arms were around his neck and her lips were once again upon his. Her tears fell unto his cheeks and their legs intertwined. They were in love. Love, the forbidden feeling… Love, the conducting chain of hate and suffering… Love… the essence of life. Revan broke their kiss, gasping for breath "So that's a yes?"

She rested her head against his chest and closed her eyes. "Maybe…" she smiled, and for a while the pair just laid at the ground. Revan gently combed her hair with his fingernails, and their breaths became timely matched. She shifted her body, supporting her chin on her hands as she stared at the young man's face "You know we'll have no ceremony… We are supposed to be fighting a war, not marrying and falling in love. There'd be criticism from a few high voices and perhaps even the Chancellor might publicly ponder how we're spending the funds he granted us: on the military or on a honeymoon…"

"Do we need a ceremony?" He sat up, a move the young woman followed, resting her back against his chest. He embraced her and held her hands near her abdomen "Bastila, our lives are anything but normal, our marriage will also be like that… Do you think we'll get home from our jobs and ask our kids how school was? Do you think we'll have a small hound running around the house? We'll have a life as close to normal as we can, but the Force is strong in us for a reason… We have a responsibility to those around us."

She sighed "So we'll never have a normal life?"

"The harsh reality? No… not really…" He chuckled "But then again, would we get used to normal living? Can you see yourself as a housewife?"

"Never…"

"See…" He laughed "We only need to be together, Bastila…Our marriage is, unconventional, I'll grant you… But unlike many done within a temple or court, ours will last… Our bond goes far beyond this ring… We have a soul bond."

Bastila held out her hand against the morning sun, its light creeping through her fingers to warm her pale face. Revan picked up the wedding band, placing it gently around her right hand's ring finger. Their fingers intertwined, and for once, the War, the Outer Rim, it didn't mean a thing to the two.

They enjoyed a brief period of peace. One neither expected to last.

* * *

The reddish skies of the Coruscant dusk were the perfect contrast to the scenery before him. The orange pattern reflected upon the cold steel surface of the ships' hulls. Their engines propelled them upwards, a sound as a lion's roars the only trace of their previous location. A month and a half had passed since that fateful day at the Forge, and now Revan faced an armada of his own. Yet this one was built on the shipyards orbiting Corellia.

The new Republic fleet was an impressive sight. Over a hundred thousand ships, a hundred thousand weapons of mass destruction, a hundred thousand 'planet killers'… It was the most destructive force the galaxy had ever seen. At full force, that was.

The new Republic Marines had been created as a fast combat specialized unit. They would be deployed when the balance of the armies needed to be shifted elsewhere. But an army is not born in four weeks. Statistically, there were close to fifty million soldiers on the new Republic Military. In Revan's mind: there were seven million soldiers and almost forty million rookies that would die within first sight of a Mandalorian crusader.

It was a hard truth, but the young General knew there would be catastrophic losses on the first few weeks of combat. Natural selection, separating the straws from the stones, the weak fell the strong would remain. Yet hopefully, after a month of fighting on the Outer Rim fronts, he would have an army to command. One obedient only to his will. The Senate had granted him an army he could be proud of. Why wouldn't they? Why would the Republic be suspicious of his activities? Had any action of his doing been motivated by anything but the defense of the Republic? No. And however impossible it will be to believe it, he vowed his future actions would have the same motivations.

The last Star Destroyer, the Invicta, darted towards the planet's atmosphere. Revan stood silently by the window of his office, sighing in appreciation at the most recent events of his life.

Bastila was his fiancé now. They had no date set for a ceremony, but the piece of jewelry at her right hand's finger and the plain silver ring on his was a clear sign of their union, a sign for all to see. Serra had taken the news quite well, being glad for her friend, a feeling wholeheartedly shared by Malak. The only frown at the announcement had come from the newest face on his circle of advisors, though perhaps the better expression for it would be 'most recent face'. Upon hearing of Revan's engagement, Master Bindo asked Revan to come along in one of his walks through the Academy's gardens. There, the old man told him of his own tale, his own sad story. A story of his wife, and her fall to the dark… Bindo left him with a simple advice "Love her with all your heart, but be mindful of her still. The Council are wrong to forbid love, for that is as forbidding the greater good for fear of the possible evil, but they were always right to be mindful of such feeling. A blink of an eye, a skip of a heart, and the dark is there, always preying on the feelings that come naturally with love: possession, jealousy, distrust. Always be on your guard, not only from your enemies, but also from those closest to you."

Apart from that, all things progressed rather smoothly in the past month and a half. Revan had gone through the thousands of reports on his personal workstation, and his time on the Academy had been spent on a rather monotonous routine. One he actually rather welcomed. He turned away from the darkening skies of the Capital planet, sitting on his desk and activating his holo screen. He went through the last few reports, reading some and deleting the rest. The sender of one of them caught Revan's attention: HK-47.

So much had happened to the young man in the recent months, he had simply forgotten his droid's mission. He leaned closer to the screen, reading carefully about the details of the chancellor's first aid's private life. There were several video files attached to the droid's reports, and Revan diligently went through them, carefully scanning the man's actions. It wasn't until he was nearly finished, and had no hope of finding anything minimally accusing, that he came upon the video recording of a rather rainy night, and Lord Yusanis' company. Revan smiled. There was nothing wrong with a man being visited by his wife and daughter. Yusanis had a handful of daughters and a beautiful wife. The problem was that Revan knew this woman, and every law existent forbade that she wed.

"Master Kae…" Revan leaned back on his seat, holding his chin with his left hand, devilishly smiling at the screen before them "So this is why you took that assignment to the Outer Rim… So this is why you followed me on my reports to the Council."

Arren Kae was a beautiful woman, but above all, a Jedi Master. When the Jedi Council ordered Revan to investigate the Outer Rim incursions of the Mandalorians, well before the War's true outbreak, she had volunteered to accompany him in that task. When the two had finally arrived on a small border station near the Rim's edge, she left him alone, claiming to be following a lead on Dark Jedi activities on a nearby planet. The young Knight had volunteered to follow her, but she firmly declined, saying the Council's mission was his first priority.

Now he realized it… She already had the child in her womb and left Coruscant in search of seclusion. As far as he knew, Master Kae still figured in the ranks of the Jedi, a though almost confirmed by the secrecy of her visit to the Echani warrior. Revan chuckled on another realization: Yusanis was a happily married man. At least it always seemed so to him. This changed everything. The elections for Chancellor were nigh, and the young man knew this information, if released could cause massive destabilization on Zaborsk's platform of 'honesty and strength'. He froze the video as the face of the child came into full view. "Just like her mother…" he uttered happily.

He tapped a few commands on a small digital board. HK had completed his assignment, and now Revan needed him by his side, on the War's front. He picked up his leather coat and lightly brushed off some dust from his shoulders. Bastila, Malak, Bindo, Serra, all awaited him on his new flagship, the Praetor, hovering thousands of miles above him. He smiled. There was one more person waiting for him. One that probably stood by the holo map of his bridge, hungrily watching the large red mass that was Republic space.

Erich Fett and Revan Stormrider were equals on this game. Both were as a Colossus, a huge obstacle standing directly on their way to the final victory. Force only knew who would be breathing at the war's end. It did not trouble the young General.

He picked up his cap and opened his office door, staring longingly at every corner of the room. A room he had accustomed to love. A room he now expected never to return to.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**Ta-da! Took more time than I planned really. College has been absolute hell, as I've begun to work on their Law office. Which speaking like that seems really good, other than the fact that we only represent people from the close community who can't afford to hire lawyers. That means I don't get paid either.

For those of you who haven't noticed, **Chapter 1 **has been heavily polished. From close to four thousand words long, it is now about eight thousand words long. That's what I'll do from now on. Each chapter I'll update I'll 'rejuvenate' another one from the past. If you don't feel like reading it, don't worry, the general thought is the same as before. Most of my added materials are background stories and details to make the characters more 'humane'. I apologize for the contradicting facts that may appear, but that happens to every 'changed' story.

Sorry for the long wait, and as usual thanks for the read.

**BSL**

**Book recommendations**:

- Lion of Macedon - by David Gemmell (my favorite author, now)

- Royal Assassin – by Robin Hobb

**Game recommendations:**

- Sins of a Solar Empire – Pretty nice space strategy game. Bad news is – no single player campaign. Though a skirmish game takes nearly a week to finish it anyway.

- SunAge – It will keep me happy while I wait for the new Starcraft.

- Sam and Max – Episodes 201, 202 and 203 – Hilarious, as usual. The last one is even better. Greatest villain ever: An Emo Vampire.

- The Longest Journey – You mean you haven't played this? Shoot yourself, it's a bloody classic.

**Music recommendations:**

- Hammerheart – by Bathory (go to YouTube and look up the video of 'One Road to Asa Bay')

- Icons of Evil – by Vital Remains (not for the religious, really heavy as well)

- Fellowship of the Ring Soundtrack – I listened to this and the Gladiator soundtrack while writing the earlier bits.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 1****5 – The First Strike/The Space Siege of Acre VII**

"We need a victory…" Malak scanned the room for approving nods. He found few "A decisive victory, a, and by the Force how I regret saying this, a bloodbath…"

"Son, a bloodbath is never something you need…" Jolee Bindo rubbed his tired eyes. The meeting had begun two hours earlier, and to this moment, only Malak and himself had discussed any true issues. Revan had spent the entire afternoon staring at a blank spot on the opposite wall. It was clear something was on his mind, and even though he had only met Revan few months before, he was sure that his thoughts were far more productive than those of the bald man "Besides, the Republic has seen nothing but victories in the past year or so… I think it's fair to say things are going our way…"

"We've had victories… True enough…" Malak smiled, knowing full well he was part of the Republic's successful strategy "But they have always come at a cost… The body count is always close between the two sides, and most of the time, we've caught ourselves wondering if the planet we've bled to liberate was worth all the trouble…"

"We need a decisive blow…" He continued "One that strikes fear into the hearts of the Mandalorians… One that fills Republican hearts with pride…"

Jolee turned to Revan "You know, kid… You could perhaps enlighten us a bit with your knowledge… You know, participate on this issue, voice your thoughts… Anything but staring at a wall like a kid with ADD…"

Revan chuckled "By Vandar's ears, what the hell do you want from me?"

"Your thought on the matter…" said Malak "As Master Bindo said, you could participate on the discussion…"

"Why the hell should I?" Revan said, slightly annoyed, crossing his arms over his chest "You're all planning the killing blow, and I'm the only one planning the first strike…"

Malak sighed and sat back at his leather chair. They were on the War Room of the Praetor, Revan's new flagship. The room's walls were covered in data screens, with reports on every Republic border, enemy activities, and Senate dispatches. At the center of such room, there was a large oval platinum table, with a large holographic map of the Galaxy at the center. The only light source was a wide circular lamp hanging from the ceiling, directly above the table. The bald man stared at every face in the room, and found no one ready to voice their ideas.

"Is there so much to plan?" He said, rubbing his forehead "As always, they'll strike us, we'll defend, they'll pull back, we'll follow them, and we'll beat them somewhere beyond the Outer Rim…"

Revan smiled "I wish it was that simple, my friend…" The young Knight leaned back on his chair and took a deep breath "No, we need a much better strategy than that… They'll throw everything they have at us, every last bullet, every last ion shell… If we just stand idly and wait for their attack we'll be crushed on their impetus… No… I've got a much better plan than that, Malak…"

"And what plan would that be?"

"What, and miss the look on your faces when I actually pull it off?" His trademark smirk once again took over his features "Sorry, my friends, but for this plan to work I would need not only absolute secrecy, but also a downright idiotic lack of rehearsal…"

Malak laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. It wasn't the first time he was left out of the loop by his friend, but it was the first time his secrecy referred to battle strategies. "Alright…" the bald man seemed tired, almost bored, and his deep sigh was but a reflection of his current state of mind "Can you at least tell us what to expect, you know, when we're on the bridge of our ships… Should we be on our guard, should we open fire first?"

"Always be on your guard, but do not fire until I give the command… Not even when fired upon…" Revan got up from his chair. His stare met those of his closest advisors. Bastila, Jolee, Serra, Malak, Lucius, Karath… All faces he wanted to protect, though only one of them would know of his current plans "I know this is going to sound rude, but, apart from Lucius, I need all of you to leave…"

His gaze met Bastila's emerald stare the longest. He didn't like leaving her out of his plans, but for his first move – the first blow in a series of battles and maneuvers that would ultimately lead the Mandalorians to his final trap – to work he'd need the element of surprise. And only a true General knows how hard it is to have that advantage when you're the defending army.

The room cleared, and for a while the only sound heard was the pair's shallow breathing and the humming of the data consoles. Revan pressed a small button on a control panel before him. The holo-map buzzed, focused, and lit up to reveal in full glory the immensity of Republic space, represented by a large blue mass, covered by small bright dots (the many star systems), with another mass, a third of its size and crimson colored, bordering its east and southern frontiers. "The Mandalorians can strike from anywhere of these two directions, as we can't count the northern and western outskirts as a possible pathway. There's nothing but rocks and gas meteors all the way from the borders of Khazad IV to the rings of Telleus Prime. They are looking for the victory, as we all are, but they're more interested in the honorable battle, the conflict, a warrior's death…"

"Agreed…" Lucius rubbed his chin, remembering in distaste that he had not shaved that morning "Besides, if they moved through those sectors, they'd spend weeks clearing asteroid fields, which we have every inch covered by warning sensors. Their element of surprise would be killed almost immediately, and their actions slowed down to a point we'd be ready for their attack…"

"Quite so, which means the attack will take place either on quadrants Z3 to Z16; or G15 to Z12…" His hand passed through the holographic image, and the quadrants phased out temporarily by the disruption "Yet it's very unlikely they'll attack the former… There, there's a large concentration of industrialized worlds, which thanks to the Senate's interference are all heavily defended…"

"They know, by now that the war is lost…" Lucius went to a small fridge in a poorly lit corner of the room and removed a bottle of Corellian Ale. He poured two shots of the drink in small crystal glasses and headed back to the table "So… All they hope for, now, is dying honorably… From now on the fighting will intensify… For every Mandalorian we take down, we'll lose two, maybe three soldiers. They want to die as warriors…"

"And that's precisely what I want to take away from them…" The General smiled devilishly, ignoring completely Lucius' frown. Revan gulped down the ale from the crystal cup "Pour me another drink my friend, and sit down… I have a plan that might just kill their morale in a single blow…"

* * *

The Mandalorian fleet stormed the Acre system, central planet within the K17 quadrant, with more than thirty thousand ships. Millions of combat droids jumped from hyperspace, their weapons powered on. Fighter and bomber wings scrambled from the countless battleship hangars until the black mass of space was nearly filled with enemy vessels. "I want every ship available on the offensive…" Erich Fett led the first wave of attack. Simultaneously, two other Mandalorian armadas stormed through nearby systems. "Do we have their numbers?"

A low ranked officer looked up from a holographic screen. "Close to twenty thousand ships, sir, amassing around Acre VII, the system's capital."

"Begin offensive, all guns powered on… We need to overwhelm them and we need to do it quickly…" The massive 'Raptor', Mandalore's capital Dreadnaught, turned towards the Republic planet and engaged its engines at full throttle. The silver armored man pressed a small comm. button over the panel directly in front of him "Our build up is complete… The time for waiting is over… We shall strike fear into Republican hearts and draw blood from Republican soldiers!"

"Their ships are turning, sir…"

Fett approached the holo-map, concentrating on the tactical positioning of the enemy troops. "They're circling the planet…" He scoffed at the sight of thousands of ships turning their side towards the advancing foe "We'll blast a hole through this wall and the rest shall crumble…"

His men cheered and the young Mandalorian moved away from the holo-screen to stare from the glass panel around the bridge, gazing at the planet before him. Acre VII was an ancient planet. Its cities, built over two thousand years before, still bore the trademark marble and concrete patterns from its earlier days. Immense skyscrapers towered over marble temples and forums, its glass windows reflecting the sunlight over the imposing concrete domes and towers. For Fett, the prospect of reducing those beautiful buildings to absolute rubble brought a new sense of joy to his recent sunken mood. The Mandalorian fleet closed in, reaching the million miles mark. "Ready the missiles…"

"I don't believe this…"

Erich Fett turned around, his annoyed gaze fixed at the Lieutenant before him "Do you have a problem, young man?"

"Sir…" The young officer stuttered "They're starting their engines… E-engaging hyperdrives…"

"What?" Fett shouted, approaching the man's desk and staring in absolute disbelief at the screen before him "This can't be…"

"Sir…" The officer swallowed hard. His gaze was fixed at the screen, and he would not dare to stare at Mandalore's covered face "They're retreating…"

* * *

"You heard me…" He stared at the dozens of faces splitting the screen of his holographic communicator. The screen covered the entire left wall of his chambers aboard the Praetor. Apart from Malak and Serra's faces, he could recognize a few high ranking Generals, and some Admirals, each a fleet commander in charge of a different quadrant of Republic space. Now, quite a few stared at him, absolutely enraged at the orders he had just issued "I will repeat my order, my friends: retreat."

"Sir, I cannot accept this order…" A bald man with a long mustache gazed furiously at him, his pale face red with uncontained anger "These are industrial worlds we are talking about… Do you know how much this will hurt the economy of the Republic?"

Revan leaned forward into his desk, his eyes burning with a mix of contempt and hatred. His mouth twisted in a scorn "The economy! General, however downright appalled I am for your lack of prioritization to the lives lost in favor of profits lost, I shall forget your pathetic comment on the grounds that I do not have the time to have you replaced…" He leaned back, opening his arms to broaden the reach of his next words "Gentlemen, my order is issued, those that do not comply shall be court-martialed for treason, good day!"

He waited until there were but a few screens remained and only his closest advisors still stared at him. Malak frowned, concerned at his friend's actions. "So this was your strategy?"

Revan's small smile had a touch of mischief, his emerald eyes impassive "Yes."

"Look, Revan…" Malak sighed and rubbed his bald forehead "I know I don't understand that much about strategy… I mean, I can command a fleet, I know the maneuvers and their counters, but directing millions of men on a battlefield, that's your specialty…"

He stared at the few faces still present "No one sees the benefit of retreating?"

Serra frowned and shook her head "Apart from sparing our troops, because let's face it, they wouldn't be able to cope with that offense… No, not really, I don't see it…"

His gaze once again went through the split screens, seeing nothing but confused and frustrated faces… apart from one… "If you would please excuse me, my friends… I'd like to talk to our Jedi representative in a private channel…"

The faces disappeared, and only the large profile of a young Jedi Master occupied Revan's wall "Should I be surprised that you fully comprehend my strategy, Master Kavar?"

The Weapons Master smiled "Not really, young man… But I am surprised that this is the strategy you follow… There are billions of lives on those planets you have just abandoned…"

"My thoughts are on the outcome, Master… On the chain of events that will follow… This is but the first step."

"Still…" Kavar smirked "Your actions should cause confusion amongst their ranks, if not anger… Can you trust them not to believe it cowardice? Can you trust them not to be blinded by rage and follow the retreating ships?"

"I wish it'd be that easy, Master… Each retreating fleet is heading to a heavily defended planet, and their combine forces would wreck the Mandalorian fleet in a matter of minutes, but as an answer to your questions: Yes…" Once again Revan shyly smiled at the face before him, his knowing gaze almost a sign of arrogance "They will not be blinded by rage or struck by confusion… Simply because amongst their Generals, stands a man called Cassus Fett…"

* * *

"You have to praise the kid, his actions were brilliant…" Cassus Fett shook his head, a light smile threatening to break his usual stern feature. He stared at the few officers around him, and at the handful of Generals appearing at a holographic display just before his desk. Fett sighed, wondering just how these men could have led the Mandalorians to the brink of a victory not two years before "He has just killed our attack plan, my friends…"

"I say we push forward…" The Mandalorian General stared at the blue image of a golden armored man, with the crest of snake painted on his chest "If they chose such cowardly act, surely we have attacked them where they weren't expecting it… Again I say: Push forward…"

"You say that to everything, Ordo…"

Canderous Ordo turned, staring in contempt at the man who spoke "It is the honorable strategy, Bralor… The warrior's way… The Mandalorian way…"

"Easy, there, Canderous…" Mandalore's tone of voice seemed depressed. His masked face betrayed no emotions, yet he looked tired, and Cassus Fett could see in him a characteristic he much admired: Erich Fett brought all responsibility to his shoulders. The failures of his subordinates were his failures as well, and while it made men better leaders, it took a heavy toll on them. Cassus did not need to see his leader's face to guess he'd see the features of a tired man, especially with the restless activities of the past few weeks. Mandalore once again raised his head to stare at the holograms before him "We will gain nothing from fighting our own… Cassus… Explain yourself…"

Fett tapped a few commands on a keyboard on his desk. A map of the galaxy appeared before the Generals "Our plan consisted on three waves of parallel attacks…" The attacks appeared on the screen in the form of three red arrows, advancing through the blue mass that was Republic Space "We'd attack and destroy nearby fleets and raze nearby worlds. Each wave was led by a fleet strong enough to handle a large planetary garrison, but just in case we faced opposition capable of troubling us, each fleet was close enough to be able to offer some support. Our whole strategy was based around quick destructive strikes and plunder to those rich industrial worlds… We'd go in, destroy their fleet and advance until we met a reasonable force, when we'd once again gather around Mandalore's fleet, forming a massive armada… From all indications, such fleet could only be destroyed by Revan's personal armada and that of the one named Malak… We'd engage such fleet and force a confrontation to their General's flagship until it was destroyed. Our victory would be the death of either Revan or Malak…"

"What then?" He heard Ordo speak. Fett sighed and relaxed his shoulders "We'd retreat…" He explained "We would engage our hyperdrives and head into unknown space… If Revan had been killed, an attack would unlikely occur until the Republic dealt with the blow to their morale and replace their General with a man as equally capable… Scarce commodity these days… If Malak had died, Revan would chase us into unknown space, where we'd once again press for a direct conflict to his capital ship… His death would once again be our victory and we'd once again blast towards somewhere far beyond the Outer Rim… Perhaps somewhere along the old Sith Empire, Malachor III or some other reasonably unknown world…"

"So…" Bralor shrugged, wondering how Revan was able to counter this plan. From the explanation of Fett, it seemed near perfect "What went wrong?"

Cassus Fett smirked beneath his mask "He retreated… He guessed we'd go in hard and made arrangements so that all first line of defense was ready to retreat at first sight of a Mandalorian ship…" He tapped a few more commands to the star map glowing before him. Now, the blue mass that was Republic space retreated while the red arrow advanced. "See as the immediate blue border becomes denser? Something tells me the forces around that second line of defense are far stronger… He has left us in a bit of a dead end, my brothers… If we advance in three waves, we are slaughtered… If we advance in a single massive wave, we risk being flanked from every possible direction, and we have no means of forcing direct confrontation with Revan at this early stage of the battle…"

"Then what would be our wisest move?"

Cassus sighed. He stared through covered eyes directly at the silver masked face of Mandalore "We have three forces capable of obliterating large space garrisons… That would make them fantastic defensive tool… I say turn them into garrisons and unleash our droids unto the civilian population of the three systems' capitals… We entrench ourselves around these worlds and force Revan to meet us…"

"How can we do that?"

"We torture the civilians, we kill children, we commit acts of unquestionable savagery… Brothers, what is the difference between our forces and those under the Republic banner?" He stared at the few men before him, and found a comprehensive nod only in Canderous Ordo "Revan has a leash around his neck… However powerful he may be, he still takes orders from the Senate. We get the images of the killings of civilians into the holonet, we make sure Revan is portrayed as the man who allowed such slaughters… He will be forced to move, and forced to move swiftly…"

"By blasting us into oblivion…"

He ignored Bralor's comment "He cannot simply strike us from afar… If he kills our fleet circling above these planets he will be forced to launch a manned strike… He'd be under too much pressure to retrieve these 'industrial' worlds… He won't be able to launch a single orbital strike, let alone a nuclear one…"

"And then we strike him…" Mandalore voiced the end of the plan. He sighed, slightly tapping his fingers on the metal table of his bridge "Cassus, you know this plan involves us exposing our necks for a fight… If there is a thing we never effectively dealt with, it is a prolonged war of attrition… We'd be exposing our warrior clans to the risk of extinction, for the possibility, not even a probability, that Revan would take the bait, and even if he did, odds are we'd still find the aftermath quite costly… The question is: Win or lose, can our race recover from the losses we'll undoubtedly face?"

"I do not know, sir…" Cassus leaned back on his chair "But I struggle to find a better plan… One that will allow us to recover our much degraded honor…"

"What Fett speaks is true…" Canderous' tone of voice was low, showing the full measure of his contempt "More and more we hear of soldiers falling astray from our path… They gamble, and there is word of a mercenary band, deserters, working for the Exchange in the Outer Rim…"

"We need this last effort, brothers…" Cassus got up from his chair and stared directly at each of his peers "If not for the victory of our race, for the victory of our way… If we shall die, we shall die as warriors, with a vibrosword on one hand, a pistol on the other, and a mountain of fallen enemies at our feet."

"Then it is settled, my friends…" Mandalore matched Cassus's move, getting up from his chair. "We have a plan, let's stick to it… We all know what to do, so I expect you full commitment to this battle… May it be the last battle of this war…"

* * *

"E.T.A.?" Revan's voice was filled with unrestrained anger. His plans, his perfectly laid out strategies, all blown to pieces by the Senate's orders. He was to strike those three systems and he was to do so at once. His mind raced through new strategies, new possibilities to overcome this setback and lead his plans back to its former track. The young man knew it was possible, but the cost on his soldier's lives would be far greater. Less and less it became his plan, more and more it became Malak's. These battles, these three confrontations, would be absolute bloodbaths, and he was still very much in the dark over the reasons for the Mandalorians to entrench. Had they learned nothing? Every single confrontation in which their mobility was ceased had ended catastrophically for their cause. No… He knew better… Cassus Fett was no man to be underestimated, and once again his mind searched, drove through the consequences and endless possibilities. What they possibly gain from entrenching themselves? He was clueless over Fett's intentions, and it nearly drove him mad.

"Sir…" A young officer waved his hand over Revan's face, and the former Knight realized he had been staring into nothingness for the past five minutes "Huh… E.T.A. is two hours and thirty five minutes, sir… Coming up to Acre VII…"

Revan mumbled incoherently to himself while he moved forward, right before a small holo-map near his chair. He went over the Mandalorian intel once again, verifying the updated information on enemy positions and movements, checking numbers, stats, odds. He was powerless here, deep within hyperspace. He stared at the blue twirl that surrounded his fleet. He never truly managed to feel at ease when a ship's hyperdrive was engaged. However accurate the calculations of a ship's computers are, no matter how fast the ship traveled, there was always the possibility, always the chance of an accident, a collision. An uncharted clash of asteroids, an unregistered gas explosion, and it would be the end of Revan Stormrider. No way to avoid it… 'Powerless' was a word commonly found in Revan's vocabulary, one loathed more than any other.

"**Statement:** Master…" His comm. unit beeped alive and the metallic voice of HK-47 reached the young man's ears "We have picked up two guests before we jumped. **Hopeful Enquiry:** Shall I throw them from a hatch and watch their bodies spread through hyperspace in thirteen different systems?"

The General could not help but chuckle "Not yet, HK… Who are they?"

"**Answer:** Codename 'Cute Couple', Master… **Objection: **I strongly protest to the presence of the word 'cute' on my vocabulary, Master."

"Protest noted and ignored, my friend…" He rubbed his forehead at the news "Take them to the training room, make sure it's empty by the time I arrive…"

Yusanis and Aren Kae… What brought them to his ship? Revenge? Had they found that it was he who sent a small dossier to the Chancellor's Office, with details on their relationship. Revan was sure Zaborsk was tempted to keep the information classified, to use it as a bargaining chip. Yet he expertly weighted what he could possibly gain from this situation, and what he could possibly loose if the Jedi Council found out he withheld information over a Jedi's behavior. There was no scandal, no public outbreak. Unlike political or religious controversies, the Jedi kept their matters to themselves. Master Kae was probably summoned and immediately expelled from the Order. Yusanis was most likely dismissed from the Chancellor's service. _No…_ Revan thought… _Don't make that assumption so easily… If the Echani is here he could very well still be in Zaborsk's service…_

* * *

The mess hall of the Praetorian was much like that of any other battlecruiser in the Republic Starfleet, only approximately twice their size. There were thirty long aluminum tables, with attached benches, equally spread across the square shaped room. Near the four walls, several heat preserving units kept small individual food boxes filled with the day's meal. The food, never particularly good, yet far from being any bad, was carefully cooked and planned as to retain as many carbs, proteins, vitamins and minerals as a typical human being needed, with special diets set out for other races. It wasn't pretty, it wasn't pleasing, it was efficient. It was the way of the Republic Armada, at least after Revan arrived. It was there, on one of those army-standard benches, where the castaway family gathered.

Yusanis stared at the fragile child, the short cropped white hair, her pale eyes… Brianna didn't deserve this, to be stuck in the middle of a Republic battlecruiser heading towards the Outer Rim to fight a barbarian race of warriors, with nothing but the clothes on her body as belongings. What if the Praetorian was shot to shreds? What if both he and Arren were killed in the upcoming battle? What would be done to little Brianna? At thirteen, she would be alone in the world, without a single relative to care for her. He couldn't leave her back home, with his wife. Their relation was already troubled after the news broke out… The noble Lord Yusanis, Echani weapons' master and councilor to the Chancellor of the Republic… now humiliated and cast out of his own house. He did not blame or hate his wife. They were betrothed since they were children, and never did he truly love her. He enjoyed her company, and had five daughters with her, but never love, never in twenty years of marriage had he experienced the passion he felt within his first glimpse of Arren. They were lovers within a week of their first acquaintance, and perhaps it was the love of the forbidden, but both could not bear to be too far apart, and the Echani man found himself more and more absent from his own household.

His mind was brought back to reality by the hissing of doors.

"Lord Yusanis, what a surprise…" His gaze went from the warrior to the silver haired woman by his side "Master Kae…" His features were that of a confused man, but the Echani could very well read what lied beneath "What brings this unusual gathering to my flagship, and by all means, what can I do for you?"

"Drop the façade, young man…" Yusanis said, sternly "You'll fool no one here…"

Revan chuckled and the sound nearly made the old soldier jump the Jedi on his throat "Very well, let us not fool ourselves with pretence of friendship. I know very well the relationship between the two of you, but your motives for being here are oblivious to me…"

"I have been cast away by the Council…" Arren's voice was deep and musical, but nearly broke with unrestrained anger "They stripped me of my rank of master and sent me into exile… I am forbidden to use my Jedi skills for the rest of my life… All because of you…"

"Yes, I have a habit of lying to the Council for over a decade and breaking every single rule they've ever issued… No, wait…"

"Your irony troubles me, young man…" Yusanis rose from his aluminum seat, closing the distant between him and the former Jedi "It's not like you've been completely honest with the Jedi yourself…"

"Indeed… But you see, your lordship…" Revan took a step forward, and Yusanis could feel the man's warm breathing on his untrimmed beard "_I_ had the good sense to leave the Order when I knew I could no longer stand by its shackles… _I _knew that to answer my call, for the good of the galaxy, I had to abandon all I believed sacred… I understand your actions very well… They are the fruit of your love, and thank the Force I have experienced the same thing. But the love Bastila and I share hurts no one, it is the matter of two people and two people only… You, Master, had pupils and companions… You, lordship, had a wife and five kids…" His gaze moved to little Brianna, who was staring wide-eyed into the face of the young knight. His hands caressed her cheek "You hurt the very fruit of your love… A child growing in secrecy…"

Yusanis found himself staring away from the pair of eyes that gazed deep within his soul. Revan's gaze was stern, harsh. Over thirty years his elder, the Echani warrior could not believe how inferior he felt in the presence of this young man. How different from the young officer practicing hand-to-hand combat close to a year before. Revan's voice once again resounded, the deepness of it resembling that of a god or titan "Do not dare to blame your misfortunes on my actions. You are not children…" The Knight diverted his gaze and took a few steps back, lowering his shoulders and sighing deeply, a disappointed look on his face "If that was the reason for your visit, then I fear we have nothing more to talk about… I shall order the fleet out of hyperspace and lend you a ship…"

"That is not all we must speak of…" Yusanis tried in vain to regain a small portion of his pride after being lectured by the young man, and he realized any request or comment he made from that moment on would sound like a desperate plea. Unable to conjure a different alternative, he continued "We have no one to turn to… We won't find shelter in Coruscant, nor in any Echani world. We seek to join your war…"

Revan once again chuckled, but the Echani realized he was not mocking him or his situation. He was, in a dark way, laughing at his own situation "_My war…_" he began, rubbing his forehead while shaking his head in resignation "… has no nursery, no place for children… You are asking me to include you in my plans. The _three _of you… If you were to die, how would that leave your daughter… How would she be able to cope… with…"

Yusanis stared confused as Revan's mind wondered into oblivion. His breathing was quicker and his eyes seemed to not know where to focus. "I have to go…" He spoke, not really looking at them as he turned around and ran out of the room. The Echani looked at his loved one, as confused as he, and sighed. "Something's wrong…" He said, and walked out the same door as Revan. Having been on a battlecruiser before, he found the young Knight on the bridge.

* * *

"Get us out of hyperspace!"

Revan stormed into the bridge of the Praetorian, his forehead covered in sweat and his voice barely containing its former strength. Every face on the room turned to stare at him but only for a brief moment. In a split second, orders were issued, commands were passed onto the central computer, and a few moments afterwards, Revan found himself staring at the peaceful serenity of the Tau Nebula. "I want the fleet in full stop, signal the commanders, there'll be a holo-conference in ten minutes… Transmit it to my quarters…"

Once again he stormed out into the corridors of the Praetorian, passing through the much confused Yusanis. The veteran weapon's master ran after him "Care to tell me what's going on? Are we under attack…"

"You'll find out at the conference…"

"So that means we can stay?" The old man asked, as the pair entered Revan's quarters. Spartanly furnished, the room was spotlessly clean. An aluminum round table, surrounded by three small black leather couches, was the only decoration in the main room. To the left was a small kitchen, with a large metal fridge filled with frozen packs of military-issue food supplies and a wide variety of beverages. An electric oven, and a large cabinet filled with kitchen utensils were the rest of the room's decoration. Revan's room, a large square space with a king-size bed at its center, was also bordered by two closets and a bathroom. The only other room at the General's quarters was a small office, with a central oval table and a wide, comfortable chair, with its back to a window overlooking the back of the ship, the bright blue of the thrusters providing a beautiful spectacle of light to its occupant. Revan entered his office and made way for Yusanis, closing the door after the man had entered. The young Knight sat himself at his chair, motioning for the Echani to follow him behind his desk. It was only then that the weapons' master realized that the room's southernmost wall was covered by small screens and holo-devices. Several of the screens boomed to life and the faces of dozens of ship commanders appeared before the pair. Revan's voice once again resounded across the room "The Mandalorian forces are significant… Especially if gathered in a single planet. It would take us weeks if not months to break their resistance and at a large cost… They did not gather only at Acre, but at Jasaray and Guardania as well… Industrial systems… Why would they divide their strength?"

"To divide our own forces…" an old bearded man in dark admiral colors answered, his deep voice almost as imposing as Revan's. He nodded at the Echani "Yusanis…"

Revan stared as the veteran soldier smiled at the screen "Druss… Good to see you with a proper rank…"

"The admiral is right…" Revan said, to get the conversation back on track "And why would they want us to divide our forces?"

"It weakens our position…" Another admiral said.

"It weakens their position as well…" Yusanis retorted "The difference is that we can afford to thin our ranks. They cannot…"

"So what would they gain by dividing our forces?"

"It would increase the odds of confrontation…"

Revan stared at the hologram of Druss Rommstach "Confrontation with…"

The old Admiral sighed "You…"

The rest of the faces were silent, and only after a minute or so did Malak finally speak up "Wait… W-Wait… I get the idea, but you're telling me their entire combat plan is based on killing you?"

"Perhaps both of us, my friend…" Revan explained "Their cause is lost, their war is lost, their race is doomed… Our faces have been on every poster printed by the Republic for the past two years… We are their main tool of recruitment, we are the faces of the Republic on this war… If we die, they have the moral win…"

"Then what?"

"Who knows?" Revan shrugged "Jump to hyperspace and get the hell out… Ritual sacrifice… Maybe they've already set a colony for the rebuilding of their race… Frankly it isn't our concern at the moment…"

"They've targeted industrial, wealthy worlds… Tortured civilians, destroyed most traces of civilization on those systems… All just to force the Senate into action…" Yusanis spoke up, lining up their plan to the rest of the commanders "If the Senate was on our back it would force us to move, it would force Revan and Malak to move… They would forsake their own lives and charge into the two…"

"But how can we counter it?" Revan asked.

"We can't just avoid confrontation…" Admiral Rommstach spoke up "There are still people on those planets, people suffering, enslaved…"

"We won't…" Revan said, picking up a pair of leather gloves from a small drawer beneath his desk "Gentlemen the plan is being laid down as we speak… Details will reach you within the hour… Admiral Rommstach…" He turned to the bearded man "If I am correct you are a few clicks away from the Jasaray system. I need the Delnoch here, near Acre…"

"We'll be there in two hours, sir…"

Revan's hands hovered over a small square button on his desk "Dismissed…" He pressed that button, and all screens turned black at the same time. He got up from his chair, and gathered a couple of data pads from a box near the edge of his desk. He moved towards the door, but before he could reach it Yusanis blocked his path.

"You haven't answered my question…"

Revan sighed, staring momentarily at the ground, before once again fixing his emerald gaze at the veteran soldier "The rules of the fleet are not the rules of engagement… We do not follow Senate instructions by the book, and hardly anything we do goes into our reports… They call it my war; it is time I acted in such fashion… This fleet is mine, make no mistake… If I told them to reduce Coruscant to rubble they would follow my commands without a flinch, so I give you but a single warning, your lordship: Do not even think of entering my growing list of enemies, you are vastly outnumbered."

"My thoughts are only turned to a small girl with silver hair…"

Yusanis barely managed to suppress an insulted grunt at the look of pure contempt cast by Revan "It grieves me, _your lordship_…" He said, with unrestrained disgust "That you spare no thought to other five small girls…"

* * *

Revan strode through the corridors of the Praetorian like a hangman heading towards the gallows. His eyes cold and his face contorted in what appeared to be pure wrath. He entered the training room fuming, and Bastila was standing near the door, a concerned look on her face. "I could sense your distress a mile away…" She rubbed his shoulders and locked her arms around his neck, and the former Knight was somewhat eased by her caresses "What's wrong?"

He sighed and locked his arms at her waist "I will never understand the Echani. For all their sense of honor, for all their sense of pride, the idea of responsibility seems oblivious to their character…"

He told her of what had happened a few minutes, earlier, from his discussion with the Echani warlord to the conference in his office. "Is that the nature of men, to forsake all that had been built over the years for a glimpse of emotion?"

"Are you talking about them or us?" She asked with a raised eyebrow "Do you really believe we didn't hurt anybody? Do you really believe the Order didn't suffer when hundreds of Jedi flocked to a war the Council didn't approve?"

"It's a different matter… We left the Order for a greater good, for the defense of star systems…"

"Isn't _love _a greater good?"

"You're missing the point…" He broke their embrace and sat on a nearby bench "We left the Order, but we didn't forsake all its tenants, all its lessons… We searched something new, but never truly abandoning our past. Yusanis had five children before his affair with Master Kae… That he was able to forget about them, forget about twenty years of marriage, of companionship, for… something new… It just seems so trivial…"

She sat next to him, meting his gaze "Revan… What is really on your mind?"

"How many times did I tell you that I longed for nothing more than to embrace you and flee this accursed war? We're secretly engaged… Promise me you won't let me do that…" His eyes were weak, almost pleading "Promise me you won't let me forsake this mission that is more important than both our lives so that our love can thrive…"

"You're afraid you'll be just like him… Of that you shouldn't worry…" She rubbed his shoulders and rested her forehead against his "We are Jedi, no matter what the Council says… We were raised with the burden of our gift, we grew up with responsibility, we fed on it as much as on the Force… You left the Order, forsake the Council's advises, on the sake of such responsibility…

"I know, I know…" He sighed "Can't you promise me all the same?"

"I cannot do that, Revan…" She sighed and stared at the floor "I too want nothing more than to take your arm and leave… I cannot vow to keep watch over you when I can't guarantee my own commitment."

He gave her a weak smile "How sad are we? We are fighting a war we do not want to fight, for a cause that isn't as just as most would like to believe, and after this whole thing is over we can't even follow our own feelings…"

"We can follow our feelings as much as we like…" She said "It is our urges we must contain… We love each other… That is enough… I'll follow you to the edge of the abyss and beyond, you'd follow me to the deepest volcano in Sullust… We don't need any more than that…"

"Commander…" A voice interrupted them, and Revan's wrist communicator hummed "We have a visual on the Delnoch, she'll be here in approximately ten minutes…"

"I want the whole crew on alert and ready…"

"Huh… Understood…"

Bastila stared uncomfortably at the young man "Ready for what?"

He smiled "You'll see…"

* * *

Jurgen of Clan Bralor watched as the first ships of Revan's fleet jumped out of hyperspace, a few clicks away from the capital planet of Acre VII. Hundreds of battlecruisers, star destroyers and carriers swarmed into the system, entering a wide arch formation twice the diameter of the planet itself. Bralor cursed as he saw the Praetorian, Revan's flagship, jump out of hyperspace. He had hoped Revan or Malak would attack other systems. Jasaray had far greater population, and the garrison at Guardania, led by Ordo, was significantly smaller than the one at Acre. Strategy itself predicted Revan would attack one of these two systems, yet there he was, once again defying logic.

He walked to his chair at the bridge of the Kraken, his Clan's flagship, and from a small compartment beneath its arm he picked up a small syringe. The one inch long needle penetrated the skin of his neck, and the drug running through his veins instantly calmed him. Mandalore's orders were clear. The moment Revan's capital ship was seen, he was to be warned, and the fleet engaged was supposed to draw him into a trap. Once his flagship was near the front line, the entire Mandalorian armada should fire upon it, ramming it if necessary, but for the plan to work it would require the destruction of the Praetorian.

A bright red light began to blink above the control room, and an alarm began to ring. "My lord!" His Senior Officer approached him, a terrified look on his face "We detect nuclear signatures coming from Revan's fleet!"

"Is he mad? The radiation could contaminate the whole planet bellow!" He stared at the holographic display, seeing as several of Revan's higher classed ships began to blink in yellow tones, a representation of nuclear activity "Get me Mandalore immediately!"

After a few moments, the image of the silver armored man, with Cassus Fett behind, appeared before him "Bralor, what is the meaning of this?"

"The Praetorian has appeared approximately two clicks away from Acre VII… We did as we were instructed, and held of our firepower until he approached, but we're detecting nuclear signatures coming from his primary missile ships and higher class vessels. We're sitting ducks where we stand, my lord…"

"Power your thrusters and approach…" The deep voice of Cassus Fett responded "If Revan is thinking of using his nuclear firepower from afar it means he's not particularly keen on engaging in this battle. It also means that his hand was forced, it means these were not his plans… Close in on the distance as fast as you can, make sure he can't use thermonuclear missiles without endangering his own fleet. He didn't bite into our trap, it's time to release the hounds…"

"Advance and attack with Mandalorian ferocity, Bralor…" Mandalore commanded "Spare no efforts to destroy the Praetorian, use your own ships as shields if needed but I want to see that flagship ablaze!"

The screen faded and Jurgen of Clan Bralor found himself reaching once again for the arm of his commanding chair.

* * *

The bridge's lights were out and only the brightness of the dozens of screens illuminated the blackness of the General's mask. He stared, impassive, arms folded across his chest, at the holographic display before him.

"Sir, they're accelerating and changing course…" A young officer said "They're heading straight at our formation…"

"Fire the nuclear missiles when ready…" Revan's voice, as deep as it was, sounded almost ghostly coming from his mask "How is their formation over Acre VII?"

The young man looked at the screen, and turned to his masked superior "Breaking up, sir…"

"Have the Reserve forces C-67 move into sector 1E, Reserves F-61 stand by and prepare to jump…"

"Aye, sir…"

Several small yellow dots began to flash on the map, and soon afterwards they dashed towards the Mandalorian formation.

"Nuclear missiles away, sir…"

"Ready the second batch…"

* * *

"Nuclear missile launch detected, twenty six warheads, my lord… Approaching on point two clicks per second… Time to impact, thirty seconds…"

"Launch countermeasures!" Bralor shouted.

"All ships, launch countermeasures, nuclear warheads inbound…"

Several hundred batteries, across hundreds of different battleships, were turned towards the missiles. From afar, the whole Mandalorian fleet seemed to blink, as hundreds of shells were thrown across the blackness of space towards the approaching warheads. The ships shook with the power of the guns, but results were beginning to show, as one by one the nuclear missiles began to explode.

"Report!"

"Two got through, my lord…" the young Mandalorian said, almost in desperation "Impact in five… four… three… two…"

Bralor could not contain a sigh of relief when he saw the two inbound missiles, heading for points far to the left of the Kraken. From his leftmost panel, he could see the first impact. The warhead exploded in between a destroyer and a dreadnaught, and at first all he could see was a bright light. Then he observed in pure dread as he saw the very plating of the ships torned away, the core structures bending and twisting as the explosion violently pushed all matter away from its center. Afterwards, a strong pull made all the matter expelled contract, and ships nearby were attracted into a strong whirlwind. Ship parts broke away and impaled destroyers, frigates and carriers. On that single explosion, Bralor lost more than a dozen ships.

"Damage report…"

"The Sphinx is lost, my lord…" The officer said, slightly dazzled "So is the Qin, the Nyad and the Ulrich… Still waiting on reports of the second blast…"

"Change in formation… Advance in single column… Heading to 103-45-970…"

"103-45-970, aye, sir… All ships, spearhead, I repeat, spearhead. Column charge towards transmitted coordinates…"

103-45-970… the coordinates for the current position of the Praetorian. He stared at the red dot on his holo diagram, noticing the small star at its top. If that single dot was to disappear if that single star was to vanish, his mission would be complete and he would be able to jump away from this hellish system. Bralor now thought differently than most Mandalorians. While most fought to get their honor back, he fought to end this war. A war he could stand no longer.

"My lord, second batch of nuclear missiles being prepared for launch… What shall we do?"

"Increase throttle, activate countermeasures as soon as the missiles leave their ships…"

"Sir, we have a few warheads, should we fire those?"

"Not yet…" Was all he said.

* * *

"The Mandalorians formed a column, sir…" The young officer said. Another light flashed on his screen. "Reserves C-67 have arrived on specified coordinates, sir. Further orders?"

"Have the reserves move through Acre III as fast as they can. Approach the far side of Acre VII and engage all ships present… I need them to be upon the rear of this column in ten minutes…" Revan's eyes were closed beneath his mask, and he allowed his other senses to take over. The young officer's voice barely reached his consciousness. He did not understand him completely, but the information was obtained nonetheless. The Force was around him, swirling in mathematical calculations and different pathways of the future. Thousands of pure light portals spun around his body, different outcomes, altered by small, sometimes unimportant choices. His voice was almost ethereal, not entirely human, yet not entirely wraithlike. His commands were clear "Clear their path in short retreats, encircling them with every thrust, hitting them at every opportunity. Cleave their strength, but do not halt their advance."

The ships began to follow his movement in the same way as any true professional army: organized chaos. One by one Mandalorian ships burst into flames and floated away into deep space. Occasionally, the wreckage would crash against a Republic ship, but the gap was quickly covered by one or more ships. As Revan had commanded, their advance had not been halted, but was won by blood.

"Sir, they are fast approaching our position…" the officer said, his voice clearly alarmed "I suggest we also retreat…"

"Suggestion noted, Lieutenant…"

* * *

"The Praetorian…" Bralor could now see the vastness of the Republic command ship. Her imposing cannons firing upon the advancing column, her fighter and bomber wings cleaving their ranks as a hunter shoots wild beasts, with patience and efficiency. "Ready the nuclear warheads…"

"Yes, my lord…"

He was close, real close… His force was thinly spread, but he had followed his orders to the letter. He could already hear Mandalore's praise. He could already see Ordo's jealous features. Though today would be a day of mourn and blood to the Bralor clan, tomorrow would bring a new era of glory. Gone would be the times of Cassus Fett, the butcher of countless worlds. Jurgen of Bralor would have his name remembered throughout Mandalorian history, as the one who met the feared Revan head-to-head, and thrived. Surely, more than two thirds of his fleet was composed of combat droids, but such pathetic details would not be remembered by history books.

"Missiles ready, sir…"

"Fire!"

* * *

"Nuclear launch detected, sir!" the young officer said, in terror "Time of impact, thirty seconds…"

"Reverse throttles, full power, get us out of here… Ready the transmission on my order…"

Revan heard the ship slowly retreating, and could only gasp at the light surrounding him.

* * *

For the first time in years, tears left the eyes of Jurgen of Bralor, though not tears of sadness. The Praetorian shook violently before his eyes, and it was with great pleasure that he witnessed its command tower rocket into the path of a Republic carrier. "We did it, lads!"

The bridge exploded in elation. Everywhere soldiers embraced and men shouted. Bralor watched in joy as the Republic ships seemed to halt their fire, a clear sign of shock at the death of their commanders. A small beep on his chair signaled an incoming comm. link. Surely, he thought, it was Mandalore himself congratulating him. He pressed a square button located on a panel on his chair's right arm, and the image that appeared was enough to send a chill through his spine.

"_Congratulations, General Bralor…" _The masked face of Revan twisted and turned with the holographic image, and a deathly silence fell over the bridge "_The Praetorian was a fine ship… The best I have ever been in… Did you know her cannons had the power to level a planet-wide city? Well, no longer, am I correct?"_

"_I have to tell you, it took me forever to understand your strategy… And only the thought of a small thirteen year old child finally enlightened me on your purposes… Now, to more pressing matters, if you look to your holo-diagram, you will find a large fleet fast approaching the far side of Acre VII. You will also find your forces left behind being overrun and encircled. A look to your bridge's windows will make you see an approaching back up, at your direct front. You will also find your fleet completely surrounded by hundreds of starships on every single direction… Now…"_ Bralor's teeth gritted loudly "_I have for you one last request, General: That on the final hour of your Clan, that on the final steps of your life, that you behave more as your kind does, and die honorably. Any resistance would only provoke unnecessary bloodshed, and heighten your absolute incompetence. If you have any meaning of honor, if you still care to preserve it, you will detonate the missiles still within your ship, or if those have already been used, you will overload the ship's core. May the Force guide you to peace, General, and for your race's sake pray that your other commanders are more gifted in warfare than you…"_

The image faded away, and Bralor turned to his senior officer. The man's tearful gaze was not one of either joy or sadness, but one of pride. Jurgen nodded silently towards the man, and a bright light engulfed him.

It was the last moment of the proud Clan of Bralor.

* * *

The Delnoch slipped away through the mass of starships observing the 'death' of the Praetorian. He had stayed close by, as to still control the ship's weapons system from the command room of his frigate. That proximity almost caught him in the nuclear blast that followed. It was not an easy decision, to sacrifice the most expensive and advanced ship of the fleet, but by doing so he achieved far greater victory. The Bralors were exterminated, and soon Lucius would begin his assault on the planet's surface. It was an added responsibility, one the old Colonel had requested after Revan's return from the Forge. However nice it was to have him by his side, the Knight knew he was holding him back. Lucius was a fine tactician and a brave and charismatic leader. He could only keep him as a secretary for so long. He stared at the old Admiral beside him. Druss Rommstach was a veteran from the Cluster Rebellions, thirty years before. And had earned his colors by his merits, rising from a young cadet, a young man born in one of the Outer Rim colonies, to a First Major within a year. "How is Bastila?"

"Fine…" Druss said, approaching "Tired, but alright… Her participation was absolutely vital. It is amazing how her Battle Meditation affects our troops… It is normal for such a massive fleet to have gaps in its formations and errors of procedure, but none took place during the hectic situation that was the battle…"

"It is a gift few possess…" Revan agreed "I have to say, you have quite a ship, here, Admiral…Lean and fast…"

"The Delnoch will handle anything you throw at her, lad…"

"Coordinates locked, sir…" For the first time Revan actually looked at the young officer's face. It was Rehj, the young Twi'lek he had met at the Academy. He had personally request both he and the young ensign, Corrah, to be transferred to his fleet. The crew of the Praetorian had been distributed between five different ships, but he maintained his best men with him on the frigate "We're ready to jump…"

"Patch me through to Lucius…"

The image of his old friend appeared before him.

"Congratulations, _General_ Yorimaek…" He said, smiling beneath his mask "The rest is up to you. I will take the Delnoch and head for Guardania…"

"I won't let you down, sir…"

His image faded away and Revan caught himself staring at the stars. The Republic fleet was now behind him and their path was clear. "Jump…"

Once again the blue maelstrom that was hyperspace filled his sight.

_TBC_

* * *

**Author's Notes****: And so begins the end of the Mandalorian Wars. It's a bit shorter than the previous chapter, but I hope you'll enjoy it just as much. Malachor is still included in my plans, for those concerned, but it will still be a few chapters before it. I will try to polish chapter 2 in the same manner of the first. It should, hopefully, be done within the next few days. What did you think of the first one?**

**Well, I have to say, it's been increasingly hard to actually get myself in the 'mood' to write a KOTOR fic, with LucasArts' apparent forgetting of that time period. Besides, the 'Canon KOTOR' has been drastically changed by the latest comic books (from what I've heard. I haven't managed to read them, myself). If there was a thing I liked about KOTOR is that it provided a great story but left room for your imagination. I believed the loose edges would be tied by a third game, not a comic book. I will try to adapt somewhat (their past, perhaps), but under no circumstances I will change my plans for the sequence of this fic. For starters, I would never start calling Malak '****Alek Squinquargesimus'. From what I remember, throughout the whole KOTOR game, Malak and Revan were described as 'friends' before and during the war, something changed somehow by the 'Revanchist's apparent tutelage of Malak during the early stages of the war. I hope you guys will go along with it, but in the end, independent of being an Alternate Universe fic, Power of Choices will follow an entirely different path than that of the 'official LucasArts'.**

**I'm already writing a new chapter for "Rebirth of the Lion", plus, I've got an early draft of a Mass Effect fic I plan to publish before the end of my 'vacation' (if you can call it such).**

**See you all on the next update (which hopefully I'll also be able to write before the end of my vacation).**

**BSL**

**Recommended Games:**

**- Mass Effect**

**- Assassin's Creed (finished it, pissed off at having to wait for the sequel)**

**- Crysis (greatest FPS I've ever played)**

**Recommended Music:**

**-**** King of the Grey Islands, and Ancient Dreams, by Candlemass. Epic, gloomy, kicks ass…**

**- 01011001, by Ayreon. Prog opera! Fantastic concept album.**

**- Watershed, by Opeth. They did it again…**

**Recommended Books:**

**- Troy: Lord of the Silver Bow, by David Gemmell**

**- Midnight Falcon, by David Gemmell**

**- Dark Prince, by David Gemmell (you can tell I like Gemmell)**

**- Arsène Lupin: The Crystal Stopper, by Maurice Leblanc**


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